The Bespoke Witch
by glittergrrrl05
Summary: Hermione is offered a war-stake by Dumbledore. She ignorantly accepts the beautiful scroll, only to find that she has thereby agreed to become wife to the House of Malfoy. An on-the-go education by Minerva, Molly, and Astoria ensues as Hermione enters formal courtship by Draco and Lucius. Meanwhile Ron's . . . Ron, and Harry is sowing his wild oats with Ginny and Luna. AU
1. Chapter 1

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 1 - Thursday

The late spring of their second seventh year promised to be the most beautiful they could remember in their time at Hogwarts. It seemed that the sun shone from morning to evening every day, and the rain rarely fell before curfew each night. Birdsong filled the air, students spilled out over the lawns and gardens each afternoon, and flowers bloomed in riotous color everywhere, drawing attention away from the war-ravaged castle. Even the shy giant squid made near-daily appearances.

The wizarding world was working at healing itself after the defeat of Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts. The remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up, tried and sentenced. Unknown heroes were brought to light, and the unfortunate ones like Severus Snape were decorated posthumously. The machinations of those in the greatest positions of power might never be fully known by the everyday witch and wizard, but they were accepted unquestioningly as necessary for the triumph of good. In the end, the Wizengamot had extended full pardons to several powerful families with former ties to the Dark Lord; this, too, was found acceptable by the magical population of England, and so the likes of Lucius Malfoy and his son were welcomed back into the good graces of society without so much as the blink of an eye. It had helped, in their case, that they had been secretly working against Voldemort from the start of the second war and had openly denounced him towards its end, striving to defeat him and his followers. Wizarding England positively swooned over dark, misunderstood secret agents of the light.

The Boy Who Lived and his illustrious friends had turned away from anything touched by the war. The three declined the offers of jobs and honorary diplomas, opting to earn them instead with one last half-year of age-appropriate work. They, along with the many students who had fled Hogwarts last year, wanted to make their last memories of school as happy as possible.

Hermione surprised everyone, herself included, by choosing a less-than exhausting academic schedule. For the first time in her nineteen years, she wanted something other than books to read and papers to write. She wanted time with friends. Most of all, she wanted time to flop back on her bed and stare at the ceiling if she chose.

The experience so far had been exhilarating; she'd never dreamed that being an ordinary student could be so freeing. There was only one thing that could have made the year perfect - sharing her new outlook on life with her parents; but they had been lost to her forever. The memory spell she had used to help hide them had proven successful, and she had guided them lovingly towards their new life in Australia. Their house had been sold, the furniture and household boxes shipped, and they had boarded their flight. Hermione had been in hiding from Death Eaters when news of the plane's crash reached her via Muggle newspaper clipping. Her parents had never reached Australia, and she hadn't saved them after all. In the end, she followed Harry's example, and lived with determination and a firmly lifted chin. It helped to have the love and support of the Weasleys and Harry, as well as the high expectations of Professor McGonagall.

The second chance at their seventh year had given Hermione and her peers one last chance to reconcile past grievances. Professor Dumbledore had specifically called upon Harry to set an example of forgiveness and support, and then he had addressed the student body as a whole. Harry took the Headmaster's words to heart and worked to overcome his prejudices.

Ron was disappointed at first, until Hermione pointed out that it was actually a sign that Harry was growing up. At that point, Ron had stomped off to sulk for a long while, and when he finally returned, it became obvious that he had decided to grow up as well. Slowly, fighting dwindled until it was infrequent. Slowly, vicious remarks and shoving in the hallways gave way to (at first) teasing and (a bit later) study groups.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were in that enviable part of every scholar's final year - the time after all the important tests have been given, but before the academic year was complete. For a few brief weeks, their concentration was demanded only to fit more friends and antics into each day. That, and, for Hermione, the need to finish up her List of Books to Read in the Near Future, accumulated with the aid of her professors and Madame Pince. The boys rolled their eyes in a good-natured way whenever she stopped to add to it; she was Hermione, after all, and this was just one of those maddening yet oddly endearing things about her.

Hermione was still a bit in love with Ron, although he still hadn't pursued anything more than friendship with her. Once every so often he'd grab her hand and hold it for a few moments, all the while smiling sweetly at her. It would keep her going for weeks, and when its effect began to wear off and she began to get restless, he would do it all over again. If she hadn't known him for so long, she would have suspected he was effectively peeing on her leg to keep other boys away and her uninterested in anyone else. But Ron had never been that subtle, nor much of a strategist outside of wizard's chess. No, he was her Ron and it was all but written in the stars that they would end up together. Someday.

The boys were slowly growing apart from her, though, Ron especially. He had begun to split his time between his friends and the various witches he sneaked to his room after successful Quidditch matches (he was under the mistaken assumption that Hermione hadn't noticed). When he did forget that he wanted to keep the girls a secret from Hermione and was caught snuggling with them in the common room at night, he would always smile at her in the way that made her forget everything and then say something like, "I just feel like such a lost soul right now, 'Mione. I need time to figure myself out."

Harry's official role as head peacekeeper at Hogwarts meant that he was now friends with practically everybody, and that everybody was friends with him; especially the witches. Without the need to lead a crusade any longer, he was putting all his previously war-related skills to use in the sexual arena. Basically, he spent the majority of his time rutting like a young buck. Sex in the alcove behind the suit of armor on the main floor_ during passing time between 3rd and 4th hour _classes_? _Done. Sex under the Whomping Willow in broad daylight after classes were done for the day? Done (he'd dodged the branches until he'd pressed the small knot at the tree's base, then lured his partner in). Sex on the stairs to the Headmaster's office? Done… _often_.

He made no apologies, and was so good-natured that Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to judge him. After all, he'd had a horrible childhood, battled an evil wizard for years, and now he was finally free to be whomever he chose. And do it _with_ whomever he chose. It had occurred to her that Witch Weekly would have a field day with him once he left the privacy of Hogwarts.

There were house parties to attend as well - and in the interests of unity after the war, these parties were now open to all students who were fifth year or above. The Gryffindor party had been a few weeks earlier; it would probably live in infamy for years to come. The firewhiskey had flowed, generously gifted by Harry, and as a result Ron had lit the end of his broomstick on fire and flown it around the common room a bit too close to the hanging tapestries. With the upper part of the room in flames and most of the attending students too inebriated to do anything but laugh hysterically, there had been nothing to do but move the party to the outer hallway. Here, the large group had come face to face with Harry, Ginny, and Luna, each bare from the waist up and wrapped around the other two in a way that gave no room for misinterpretation. When he became aware of the audience (it took more than a few seconds), Harry released his mouth from around Ginny's nipple with a loud, wet smacking sound and gave a sheepish smile, but his hands never broke their grip of Luna's breasts. It was a moment when it was good to be Harry Potter - no one else would ever have lived it down, but he managed to accrue even more worshippers _and_ keep the girls. Both seemed very happy with the arrangement, as did he.

Hermione herself had left that party early on. She had attempted to have her first taste of firewhiskey, but it had been sternly taken from her grasp by Draco Malfoy. It seemed to her that Draco had spent the greater part of the evening foiling any chance of her having fun. Dancing with her friends? He had suddenly acquired a penchant for finger sandwiches, of which the buffet had run out. Trying to catch Ron's eye in the hopes that this might be _the night_ - the one when they finally declared their feelings for each other and sealed their new relationship with her first kiss? Draco had interrupted each of her attempts to flirt with Ron, each time needing something which required her to Floo to the kitchens for more food. She would have been furious, but Malfoy had been nothing less than kind and courteous each time. Instead, she had swallowed her disappointment and found sanctuary in the library.

During her time of quiet reflection (because she certainly hadn't been able to read anything after the image of Ron devouring Lisa Turpin's face had been burned into her mind), it had occurred to her that a good portion of her possible fun had been foiled by Draco Malfoy since first year. He had steered clear of her in all ways except to _foil fun_ on a regular basis. Perhaps it was a pureblood thing. Hermione contemplated the idea of making a small Draco voodoo doll.[d1]

Today Hermione felt unusually optimistic about her immediate future. She loved her classes, she and Harry (and, therefore, Ginny and Luna) had made plans to study together later, and the weekend was fast approaching. In years past, she had hated the idea of her brain stagnating for two days and had worked to fill Saturdays and Sundays with self-made lessons. Only now, in the spring of her final year, was she coming to realize the bliss of two days filled with nothing but the pursuit of pleasure and clean laundry. Those things and _parties_.

This upcoming Saturday night would be yet another Slytherin party. Honestly, those students had more money than they knew how to use! Hermione was looking forward to it for two reasons. Firstly, she had been dragged shopping by Ginny and Luna and had found a distinctly _un-Hermione-like _dress which was begging to be worn. It was dark green and a bit daring, and when she put it on, she felt the same way she had at the Yule Ball in fourth year. Secondly, she was looking forward to giving Malfoy a taste of his own medicine. Hermione had worked out at least seven strategies to keep him from having fun at his own party! Perhaps she should have counted a third reason for wanting to go to the dance, but somewhere in between her new dress and the idea of banishing all fun from Draco's night, her usual daydreams of Ron sweeping her off her feet were forgotten.

* * *

[d1]Can't say that I blame her.


	2. Chapter 2

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 2 - Thursday

Hermione walked quickly towards the staircase leading to the Headmaster's office, her heavy book bag bumping against her side awkwardly. At some point after she had received her summons, she had wrapped an arm around the bag in an attempt to keep it from swinging quite so wildly (and of course she had been at the opposite end of the castle when the note had popped out of thin air and dropped into her lap). Now, as the staircase and her destination loomed in sight, she finally unclenched the taut muscles of her aching arm. Shaking it out, she uttered the password to Professor Dumbledore's inner sanctum. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea after all to pack so much extra reading material into her bag this morning, but her plan had been to sneak away from the boys after their last class and find a sunny reading spot near the lake.

At the top of the staircase, Hermione paused outside the half-closed door. What on earth was so important that Professor Dumbledore himself had sent a summons - and in the middle of the school day, no less! No one, not even Harry (and not even in the midst of the war) had ever been summoned in such a way before. The Headmaster must have been awaiting her arrival, and he called out for her to enter.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Please, please - come in, won't you?" He was twinkling at her in his most engaging way, and as usual it completely disarmed Hermione. His kind, gentlemanly manner always made her think of an elderly uncle - her favorite sort of relative, who waited to hear your answer when he asked how you had been, and seemed fascinated by all your ramblings. The briefest of thoughts crossed her mind, and for an instant in her mind's eye she saw him as a young, courtly wizard. The idea made her blush. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore was occupied with pulling out a chair for her, and missed this.

"Here we are, my dear - sit, sit! And we shall have tea! Would you be so kind as to pour for us? Oh, look, they've sent up my favorite cake. Lovely." He fussed over the tea tray, and then sat down in a chair by her side.

Hermione served the tea and cake, and there was silence except for the sounds of sipping and forks tinging against china plates. It was uncomfortable on her part; here she was, having been instructed to drop what she had been doing and run to this meeting without knowing the reason for doing so. The fact that the Headmaster had been so cheery, and had offered refreshments seemed to weigh in favor of a pleasant reason, but Hermione guessed that Dumbledore would have been equally cheery and still have served tea had he arranged a meeting with known Death Eaters during the height of the war.

When she could stand it no longer (it had to have been ten agonizing minutes by now), she addressed the Headmaster.

"Sir, is there something I should know? I only mean that you must have a reason for my being here, taking up your time. Is there something I can help w-"

"Patience, Miss Granger!" More twinkling. "We await the arrival of your head of house, who should be just coming up the staircase now. Ah, Minerva! Impeccable timing as always."

Professor McGonagall swept into the cluttered space, greeting Hermione in the familiar way she had adopted in the past year, but her eyes stayed fixed on the girl's face for longer than strictly necessary. Hermione, whose life revolved around lists and notes, made a mental note of it. That, and the excessive twinkling coming from the Headmaster. She wondered what would make Professor McGonagall slightly nervous and also cause Dumbledore to feel the need to do the elderly-uncle flirting thing.

"Have a seat, please, Minerva. Miss Granger and I were just enjoying a cup of some very nice Oolong. You must have some. Perhaps I could impose on you to refill my cup, my dear?" McGonagall sat down in a chair to Hermione's other side and took the cup proffered by the girl.

_How curious_, thought Hermione, _that we're sitting in a line. No direct eye contact at all_. The Headmaster was speaking again in between sips of tea.

"Excellent. What excellent tea! A gift from an old friend . . . let's see, where did he procure it? Some place in the Orient, of course . . ." _What was he on about? Really? the TEA? _Hermione was becoming more curious as to the nature of this meeting by the second.

Now Professor McGonagall was filling in the silence that hovered at the edges of Dumbledore's inanity. "Once again I must congratulate you on your success at Hogwarts, my dear. You lived up to each of my high expectations of you. I look forward to following your career. Have you given thought to what-"

Here the head of Gryffindor house was cut off by the sound of a throat being cleared. Oddly, it didn't quite fit the voices of either person beside her (and if Hermione had not been trying to figure out exactly what was going on at the moment, she would have noticed). Both of them jumped slightly, and McGonagall quickly rerouted her conversation.

"Of course, you must be wondering what you're doing here, being chatted up by the two of us. Albus, would you . . .?"

"Of course, of course. Miss Granger, I hope you will forgive the ramblings of . . ." (Here he paused to set down his teacup) ". . . an old man. Aaah. But tea does make everything just a bit better, don't you agree? I have some news to share with you. Let us start with this."

The Headmaster reached into his robes and retrieved a scroll of parchment tied with a green ribbon.

Even rolled up she could see that it was singularly beautiful, and Hermione's love for all things paper or parchment filled her with a sudden desire to know what sorts of things were written inside.

"What is it, sir?" Her hand reached out for it involuntarily; she stopped herself at the last moment.

He turned to look at her for a moment, a question on his face, before answering softly, "A war-stake, my dear. For you. Do you accept it?"

Mesmerized, Hermione reached out and took the lovely scroll from the Headmaster. She felt strong magic rolling from the paper into her body, and was delighted by the sensation. She turned back to Dumbledore, still confused.

"Yes, thank you. It's lovely! I'm sorry, a - what? What is it?"

Her tone was apologetic; she didn't often find herself in a situation where she was completely ignorant, even in the wizarding world. She wondered if it was rooted in some pureblood tradition, and the knowledge of it thereby (until now) inaccessible to her.

"A war-stake, dear. Yours now that you have accepted it. Do you not know what one is, Hermione?" Professor McGonagall's voice was as soft as the Headmaster's had been just moments before. At first the young witch thought they were speaking in funereal tones, until it occurred to her that they sounded awed, not sorrowful. So . . . a war-stake was something that evoked reverence in Albus Dumbledore? Hermione wanted to know more _immediately_.

"No, I'm afraid I don't. May I assume that's because it's a pureblood thing, Professors?"

Professor McGonagall shared an uneasy glance with Dumbledore, but because of the seating arrangement Hermione was unaware of this.

"Yes, that's right! Well done, Miss Granger. It's an ancient tradition dating back to a time when magic was at its most elemental. We have no data that supports the existence of Muggle-borns at that point in history, and so many scholars of magic believe that there simply weren't any. Magic seems to have been contained within specific families, many of whom are still extant. In fact, some of your peers come from these families."

None of this was new to Hermione, but she realized that the Headmaster was building a base on which to raise his explanation. He was very good at it, and that made the redundancy rather enjoyable, anyway.

"These families built alliances with each other. They fought side by side in wars, both in the magic and the Muggle worlds. Some alliances were short-term, and others were formed permanently. Many times the nature of these agreements between families had more to do with the families' covenants than any specific situation."

"I beg your pardon, but what is a covenant, sir?"

"Excellent question . . . a very secret, very potent magical binding that was done at the inception of a new magical family in ancient times. Of course, one wasn't done at every wedding, but they did occur when an extremely powerful wizard bound himself to the daughter of another very powerful wizard."

"But sir, what exactly does one of these covenants contain?"

"Hmmmm . . . heavy layers of both light and dark magic - now, don't misunderstand that phrase, my dear. Dark magic has been used for wrongdoing for so long that its original state has been forgotten by most. It is, quite simply, magic so ancient and robust that it does not allow itself to be controlled very well."

"You speak of it as though it's sentient, sir."

"Often it is, Miss Granger. Back to the ancient covenants. They were woven with heavy layers of the magics and used as both protection and weaponry by their families. They are fascinating to study, but unfortunately because of the very secrecy of their nature, the only covenant one is ever able to know is one's own. And then only if one is a pureblood."

"I feel as though there must be several more layers to your explanation, sir. I'm still confused about the relevance of this war-stake."

"All right, let us add the next layer, then. The ancient covenants were created, the families employed the powers of the covenants, and they also had to live by them. Each covenant was slightly different, and while some were complex, others seem to have been surprisingly simple. Some tend to be made of darker stuff than others, too. The success and survival of the family depended on their obedience to their covenant. Interestingly enough, some covenants are sentient enough to communicate important information to their respective families! Others impose order through the meting out of curses and other harsh consequences of disobedience. Most require the potential wives of their houses to meet certain requirements."

"That seems awfully archaic, sir! Do you mean that even today, pureblood wizards follow these covenants in their relationships?"

"Absolutely, my dear. The covenant of the family dictates much."

Hermione was incensed at the idea that a piece of paper could control such personal parts of any person's life. "You have _got_ to be kidding me! So it doesn't matter who you like - it all boils down to what the piece of paper - this _covenant_ - says!"

"Oh, I seem to have led you astray, dear girl. The covenants were never written down, and they do not exist in any visible way. They were _ingrained_ into the families at their very start - in their very bloodline. It is as much a part of them as any vital organ, and they have no desire to fight against it."

She was at a loss, which happened infrequently to her. "Are we talking about instinct here? Or are you actually saying that these old pureblood families tapped into an ancient power source that controls the decisions of everyone in that bloodline?"

"Very nearly almost. The families made an alliance with an ancient power source, yes. The ancient source still controls the destiny of these families. However, there is no malevolence involved. The covenants wish to continue their own existence as well as prosper the families to which they are tied. It is a symbiotic relationship, and a very elegant one."

Hermione turned to look him straight in the eye. "And does your family have a covenant, sir?"

The Headmaster smiled at her sadly. "Indeed we do. However, Aberforth and I have no families, and so it ends with us."

"What about you, Professor McGonagall?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm afraid we don't go back that far, although my late husband's family did," her head of house replied.

"So, in summary, the ancient covenants are very secret and powerful, and when obeyed or followed they help ensure the success of a bloodline. Am I correct?" Hermione asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, I think that is as correct a short answer as can be given."

The Headmaster looked pleased and began to rise from his seat when Hermione asked, "But what does a covenant have to do with a war-stake, sir?"

She was more confused than ever. Exactly what was this meeting about? What was this parchment in her hand, and how did it even remotely fit into the history lesson she had just received?

The Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged another look over Hermione's bent head. At the moment she was staring at the scroll in her hands with fascination. It had begun to glow slightly.

"You really do not know . . .? I'm quite sure there was a definitive section in _Hogwarts: a History_!"

"Oh, sir, if there had been I would know - it's one of my favorite textbooks, and I've read it countless times front to back!"

The Headmaster sat back down in his seat, looking warily around the room. Hermione had turned her chair so that she could keep both eyes on him, and it was making him uneasy. _How could she not know this? Why had she taken the scroll from him in the first place, and why-oh-why had it already begun to glow? Surely it would not mistake her ignorant taking of the war-stake for actual acceptance?_ He turned his gaze back to meet Hermione's own, and began again.

"A war-stake, my dear, is as old as the ancient covenants . . ."

_Yes, yes, we've established that! _Hermione thought impatiently. She took a deep cleansing breath and settled down for another layer of explanation.

" . . . simply because war dates back to the dawn of time. Alliances have always been the backbone of successful armies, and they have been made for reasons too varied to list completely. However, marriage is certainly one. In the wizarding world, many families have joined alliances simply for the chance to pursue a bespoke witch . . ."

"Errr, what's a bespoke witch?"

"One seemingly made to order for a certain family's covenant. It has been proven in several fascinating studies that a pureblood wizard's covenant will actually direct him to his bespoke witch."

"All right, so alliances made for bespoke witches -"

"Alliances made for the _chance to pursue_ a bespoke witch. Never forget that the witch doesn't have to accept pursuit."

"So, how does the war-stake fit in?"

"At any time in a battle or war, interested parties may make an alliance and cast a war-stake. It is not just a declaration of intent. If accepted by the potential war ally, a war-stake then becomes a legally binding agreement between the two parties. If their joint venture is a success, the family who cast the stake in the first place will send it to the bespoke witch. If she accepts it, she becomes the wife of that house."

Hermione looked at the parchment scroll in her hand, running her finger along the silky ribbon that tied it shut. The magic purred under the movements of her fingers.

"So _this_ is an actual war-stake. How fascinating! Is it original, or a facsimile? Do we know who cast the original stake? To whom was it sent? I have so many questions!"

Professor McGonagall reached across the arm of her chair and touched the young witch's sleeve lightly, catching her attention. "Hermione, dear. You do realize that war-stakes are still cast? Indeed, many pureblood wizards cast stakes in this last war. Among the old houses it is still a common practice."

"You've got to be kidding! This last war? What kind of alliances were made to make them binding?"

It was Dumbledore's turn again. "The sort of alliances necessary to win a war between the forces of good and evil - pureblood families with powerful covenants came to our side and cast war-stakes at many points in the war. This was one of them. I accepted this one on behalf of our side. It was a powerful alliance that tipped the scales in our favor."

The Headmaster was looking at the scroll in Hermione's hands, and her eyes were also drawn to it. It glowed faintly in her hands, and the magic still danced between her and its paper. _How romantic,_ _that someone would have a feeling that someone else was The One, and state their intentions in a binding agreement. To offer their lives in exchange for the hope of acceptance! _

As these thoughts ran through her head, it occurred to her that she might be feeling the influence of the scroll's magic. Still, the thoughts were appealing to her idealistic Gryffindor mind. She decided that, if she were being influenced then at least the magic felt pure, and light.

"But to whom was it sent? Surely these kinds of things aren't passed around like a newspaper, are they?"

Suddenly, the Headmaster's eyes pinned Hermione with a look that seemed to scream _prepare yourself_.

"It was sent to you for acceptance this morning by the House of Malfoy."

Professor McGonagall's hand was on Hermione's sleeve again in a comforting way. Suddenly comprehension dawned across the young witch's face.

"And I accepted it. I . . . I have to leave." With that, she gently laid down the war-stake and fled the room. Her footsteps could be heard clattering down the stairs to the castle hall.

Dumbledore rubbed his hands together in an anxious manner. _What had just happened? Was it accepted or not? _ _How would he face the two men listening on the other side of the closest tapestry?_

Professor McGonagall stood to leave.

"Minerva, wait! What are we to do?!"

"Oh Albus, she's a Gryffindor. She'll be waiting for me in my office when I get there, and we'll have a long talk about destiny and opportunities and _honor_. She accepted it, and it accepted her. It'll all work out, you'll see. In the meantime (here she glanced meaningfully at the tapestry in question), good luck."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi Peeps, just a quick thanks for the love notes! They encouraged me to give you this ;)**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 3 - The rest of Thursday, and then Friday

Hermione's mind raced moved far faster than her feet as she raced through the castle halls. The plot that had sounded so romantic just a while ago now tolled in her ears like a death bell. Why had someone placed a stake on her? Why the Malfoys? She had barely spoken to Draco over the years and only met his father once during the war. It wasn't a good memory, although it certainly wasn't the worst. What about her could make her desirable to the Malfoy covenant? Didn't her blood status exclude her from this whole mess?

She thought about the beautiful war-stake again. It had glowed and pulsated, and _smelled divine_. _Great Merlin_ - she wanted to be enveloped by that scent. It was subtle and heavy and masculine and mouth-watering.

Hermione's mind flashed back to the second the summons had popped out of thin air and landed in her lap. Luckily it had occurred at the beginning of Potions class, during the lecture and note-taking part. Had it appeared much later, it might have dropped into her cauldron and ruined the beautiful Amortentia she had been brewing all week. It should have been ready by the end of class today, and she hoped Professor Slughorn had bid some student bottle it for her. She'd spent much time guessing what it would smell like. She wondered if it would be all the things she liked about Ron - the way he smelled of soap and clean, outdoor air, with just a hint of the oil from his broom kit. Now she thought that even her own Amortentia couldn't possibly affect her the way the fragrance of the war-stake had.

After a short time, the young witch found that her feet had carried her to the chambers of Minerva McGonagall. This was fitting, since Hermione suddenly had more questions. Her professor hadn't yet returned, and so the young witch sat down on the cold floor of the castle hallway to wait. Professor McGonagall had only one class this morning, and would undoubtedly return to her rooms before lunch. She should be appearing any moment.

In fact, Hermione waited an entire sixty seconds before being struck by an idea. It was one of those lightning-strike thoughts that cut through anything else she'd been thinking of previously and left no room for argument. This thought, plain and simple, was _I must go check my Amortentia. Now_. She left a note for her professor and set off again. Within twenty minutes, Hermione had raced to the dungeons, collected her potion (which had indeed been bottled for her), and was on her way back. She arrived at Professor McGonagall's door breathless and impatient at the same moment her teacher returned.

Five minutes later, Minerva McGonagall declared that Hermione's potion had been well brewed - it smelled exactly like the professor's favorite whiskey. Hermione cautiously sniffed it, and gave a moan of unadulterated pleasure because the aroma of her Amortentia was in fact the same scent she remembered from the war-stake! _Heavy and subtle, and very, very masculine. _She told her professor, who smiled tenderly.

"Oh, my dear girl! It's time we had a long talk about the ins and outs of being a bespoke witch." And so they talked about all kinds of things Hermione had never known about because she was Muggle-born. She was shocked to find out that most of what she was just learning was common knowledge among her peers.

"But I'm a Muggle-born! Surely this excludes me from this whole . . . mess."

"That makes no difference to some covenants. I'll wager your eligibility came from the strength of your magic and intellect. And you're a lovely girl. You're quite a catch, you know."

The young witch opened her mouth to frame another argument, but the professor interrupted her. "Hermione, you've accepted the stake, and by doing so altered what you yourself may have planned for your life. Don't see this as a tragedy before you've thought about it from every angle! The way the stake's magic responded to you, and the fact that its scent matches that of your Amortentia points toward destiny. I plan to help you do it, too. Help you think about it, that is - not run away, lass!"

Professor McGonagall continued this education of her favorite student. Some of the knowledge was shocking, and here Minerva went slowly.

"First and foremost, you need to know that you're already loved and desired. Wizards who cast stakes don't do so impetuously. Their covenant won't let them. You've been thought about for years, now."

They ate chocolate cake and sipped at mulled brandy while they talked.

"But which Malfoy cast the stake?"

"Why, dear! They both did. That's why Albus used the term 'wife of the house' when he talked about it earlier."

"_Sweet Merlin_! What are you saying?! I'm to marry _both_ of them?!" Hermione laughed feebly. The sound stuck in her throat when she saw her professor's face.

"Yes, you're to marry both of them."

"And . . . and be _lawfully wedded_ to both of them?"

"Of course. And yes, you will be bedded by both. Hopefully frequently!" At Hermione's sharp intake of breath, Professor McGonagall tutted. "Hermione, they're powerful, handsome men - and according to Witch Weekly, the female population of magical England finds them highly desirable! Surely you've noticed that. You've gone to school with Draco for almost eight years! Imagine kissing two of him."

Hermione's shock prevented her from hearing anything else her favorite teacher had to say that night. She ended up falling asleep on the couch, and woke up the next morning to find herself covered in cozy blankets. The bottle of Amortentia was still sitting on the side table, and a smiling Minerva McGonagall was shaking her shoulder.

"Ah, good. I'm glad to see you awake. Please go and prepare yourself for the day, then report back here."

One hour later she was back, processing still more new information about her predicament. "Wait - you're telling me I have to marry the House of Malfoy, as in two separate men, but that I am to be formally courted by way of chaperoned visits so as to protect my virtue and honor. What happens to my honor when the wizarding world finds out I'm a polygamist?!"

"Firstly, you must understand that this isn't at all unusual in the magical world. In fact, most pureblood families follow this practice. Many of the students here at school come from homes where there is a house wife. In fact, one of your peers will be marrying his now-step-mother when he turns eighteen in a few days."

"That's just - ew!"

"Oh, it's not nearly as 'ew' as it sounds. She's nineteen and quite good-looking. The family covenant clearly saw her as the answer to their low birth rate, because she's already had one set of twins since she married the patriarch of the family last year."

"And how does my 'peer' feel about marrying a girl who's not only been acting the role of his stepmother, but also _making babies with his dad_?!"

"Considering the fact that the boy's carried a torch in his heart and a rod in his front pocket for her for years, not too badly. Hermione, I know this world is quite different from the one in which you were raised. That doesn't make it wrong. May I make a conjecture?"

"Errr, yes, of course."

"The covenant of Malfoy House wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't its bespoke witch. That covenant has prospered the Malfoys for over a thousand years, and now it wants to prosper you as well. Give it a chance. You'll be given time to adjust to all this. Your wizards already understand this is all new to you. Besides, I highly doubt Lucius and Draco will drag you off against your will . . . right away."

Hermione saw a brief mental image of Draco as a cave man with her thrown over his shoulder. As she shuddered at the thought, her professor uncorked the bottle of Amortentia under her nose and raised her eyebrows expectantly. Hermione's shudder turned into one of pleasure as the unearthly fragrance assailed her senses. She fought the sensation and corralled her thoughts.

"So . . . because I ignorantly accepted what I _thought_ _to be_ an innocent scroll but what _turned out to be_ a marriage contract of sorts, I am now bound to marry - wait, is this legally binding?"

"Yes, Hermione. And yes, you will be held responsible for your choice, ignorant as you were. My dear, the fact that your touch activated the stake's magic is evidence to the fact that this was meant to be."

The professor added, "I think it might help for you to hear from a house wife. I'll see what I can do. Now let's dump that heavenly brew of yours before it causes unholy mischief."

Their talk had lasted the entire morning, and they stopped only for a brief lunch brought by a house elf. Hermione didn't go to any classes that day. In the afternoon, she was led by Minerva McGonagall to another meeting in the Headmaster's office. The door was open again, and he bade them enter. Hermione's eyes strayed to the war-stake, which remained where she had left it only the day before. Of its own accord, her body walked to the chair and collected the scroll, and then held it against her mouth as its scent filled her nostrils.

She sat meekly in her chair from yesterday and waited for what was to come. That turned out to be more information from Professor Dumbledore, as well as a plethora of questions (some of which were embarrassing). The last few were the worst.

"My dear girl, forgive me, but I must ask you the most important of the traditional questions of binding. Are you pure?"

"Y-y-yes!" Hermione spluttered as her face flamed.

"Splendid. And, Hermione, have you given your first kiss, or has it been taken from you?"

_What a curious set of questions. Why is it that I am suddenly relieved not to have kissed Ron? _"No, sir."

"Lastly, will you agree to the terms of formal courtship, if Minerva explains them to you?"

"Well, I won't agree blindly to them, so perhaps Professor McGonagall should start explaining."

At this the Headmaster smiled apologetically and muttered something about looking for Mr. Filch. _Oh, Merlin's beard. What am I in for, now?_

In a nutshell, Hermione agreed (blushing the entire time) to abstain from the following during the courtship of the House of Malfoy: informally addressing any male besides Harry, who was to be considered her brother; spending individual time with male students other than Harry; accepting gifts from any male except Harry; venturing through the castle without an approved escort; wearing inappropriate clothing; being alone with either Malfoy without an approved chaperone; acting in any way that could dishonor her future family; and, best of all, touching herself in any way, shape, or form to provide sexual release. To make matters worse, she was required to take a magical oath. This was ostensibly for the protection of her virtue, but it felt controlling. _One thing's for certain: I will be one virtuous little bride whether I like it or not._

There was an owl waiting in her room when she went to change for dinner. Hermione wondered why it hadn't handed its letter off to her at dinner, and then realized it must be something she wasn't supposed to read in front of the other students. She panicked. _Sweet Circe, it's from one of them. I can't even-_

The owl, impatient with her, dropped the letter and flew to the window, hooting at her until she opened it. There was a light rain falling outside; Hermione quickly closed the glass panel and locked the latch. She stared at the small piece of parchment on her bed and then finally crept closer to peek at the return address. _Molly Weasley. Wait- what? Does she know? Is she angry? Of course she's angry! _Hermione drew from her Gryffindor courage and quickly ripped open the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Minerva has just passed on the good news to us. Congratulations! Arthur and I couldn't be happier for you, except, of course, if you had ended up as house witch to our family. Some of our boys did cast stakes for you._

_You must have so many questions, and I would be happy to talk with you whenever you like. I became wife to the House of Weasley right about your age. Minerva and Albus have agreed to allow me to Floo in to join your meetings with them. Perhaps hearing my point of view will help your understanding of this part of our world._

_Sweetheart, the Malfoy family _(here there were several smudges in a row, as if Mrs. Weasley couldn't decide exactly how to describe the Malfoys) _is an ancient one, and therefore powerful. This is an excellent match for you! Honestly, I cannot think of another house worthy of such an intelligent, lovely young witch._

_Well, I will see you at tomorrow's meeting. I believe we meet in Albus' office at 10:00._

_Until then I hope you will keep your mind and heart open to this new part of your life._

_Molly_

Obviously, Molly was trying to reassure Hermione. However, the letter was like a can of worms - once opened, there was a slithering mass of new information that needed to be processed immediately. _Molly is a house wife? Who else is there besides Arthur? Some of the Weasley boys cast war stakes for me? _ _I think of them as brothers! It's a good thing I have such a light course load – apparently it's no longer anyone's priority._

Unfortunately, it was dinnertime. Not only did she need to eat, but Professor McGonagall wouldn't be in her rooms. Sighing (something she had begun to do frequently in the past twenty-four hours), she dragged a brush through her tangled curls and went down to join the student body.

Draco was absent from dinner, much to Hermione's relief. The Slytherin table sat just beside that of Gryffindor, and her customary spot faced it. Many times she had been aware that Draco was within her line of vision as she talked with her friends, although she couldn't remember ever looking directly at him. If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she did wonder where he was.

After dinner, Ginny and Luna came to make plans for the Slytherin party. Hermione stammered through the conversation, and was sure her face was flaming red, but the other two didn't seem to notice. They only left when they realized Harry had been waiting in bed for them for almost an hour. As soon as they were gone, Hermione raced from her room, through the commons, and all the way to Professor McGonagall's quarters.

When the door was finally opened (she had knocked at least three times!), she nearly pushed past her professor in her quest for answers to her sudden bout of questions.

"There's a party tomorrow night-"

"Yes, in the Slytherin dungeons," Minerva McGonagall interrupted her.

"And I was planning to go, but now I don't know if I should."

"My dear, why wouldn't you go?"

"Well, the terms of the courtship and the vow I took today. I mean, my dress might be considered inappropriate, and there'll be boys there who might talk to me, and-"

"And Draco will be there?" The professor supplied with a kind smile.

"Yes" she whispered, shamefaced.

"Hermione Granger, I've never seen you in anything even remotely inappropriate. You have no trouble telling boys you've no time for them. And Draco Malfoy most assuredly is hoping you will attend his party."

"But it's all so awkward! Wait - how do you know that?"

"I know because he is also anxious about the party, and for many of the same reasons. Actually, he has more reason to be worried - he publicly cast a war-stake in your name. It was accepted by Albus on your behalf and became binding. Then he and Lucius sent it to you. You accepted it without knowing its significance, and he is now unsure of himself. Will you honor the stake only out of a sense of duty? Would you have rejected his pursuit? You see, he has put his heart on his sleeve, while you carry yours hidden from his view."

The idea of a vulnerable Draco hadn't occurred to her. It humbled her. "Still, the dress I bought for it . . . might be a bit on the naughty side."

"My dear, if _Hermione Granger_ thinks it might be _a bit on the naughty side_, then it's probably perfect for the occasion."

"But . . . oooooh, _Ron will be there_! It will be so awkward. I mean, I've always assumed we'd eventually be together; only now I find myself engaged to one of our classmates _whom I hardly know_. How will I manage that?"

"My advice is to not tell Mr. Weasley until you're good and ready-" here the young witch interrupted her.

"But-"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Well, no . . ."

"Do the two of you have some sort of understanding?"

"Not that we've ever talked about, but . . . you know . . ."

"No, I must say, I do not. Young lady, I'm aware of the comings and goings in my house, and Mr. Weasley has been doing quite a lot of _both_ with quite a few witches. This is not the behavior of a young man who has an understanding with a lady."

"I suppose you're right," she whispered, dropping her eyes to her lap. Years of hurt and shame overwhelmed her, and she was unable to meet the gaze of her favorite professor.

"Another reason I believe your destiny lies elsewhere. I have known the Malfoys a very long time; Lucius would die before he hurt and humiliated someone he supposedly cared about, let alone planned to marry. The family's covenant must run strongly in both men, for I have seen the same strength of character in Draco. In my opinion, you have been saved from a lifetime of heartache and disappointment. If you want proof that you're bespoke for the house of Malfoy, look no further. Its covenant has already sought to protect and prosper you."

"But . . . but I don't know what to do, or say. I don't know what's expected of me in the least." She was trying not to cry, and her voice trembled.

"Be the same witch you've always been - be yourself. You're bespoken, sweetheart - I do not think you can disappoint him."

Obviously, Hermione got no sleep that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi again! I'm just popping in to say thanks again for the kind reviews, especially the sweet words from Peachymom! I, too, think the Malfoy men are delicious. This is almost criminally fun . . .**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 4 - Saturday Morning

Hermione awoke much too early on Saturday morning with her sheets twisted around her body like a snake. _So much for a good night's sleep. _She fought with the bedding until she escaped it, and then quickly showered and dressed. A walk near the lake sounded like a good idea; it might help her organize her thoughts before this morning's meeting. _I'm supposed to have a chaperone. Well, I'm not waiting here in my room until it occurs to someone to assign one. _

The air was crisp, and there was a light mist moving across the grounds. Hermione walked slowly along the shore of the lake, smiling when the giant squid rose to the surface to peek at her. She reflected on the impossibility of her life, held to the standards of her former world. She had discovered that magic flowed through her veins, and that she was a witch. She had befriended Harry, who as an infant defeated a dark wizard. She, Harry, and Ron had entered a war, fighting side by side as children against some of the most powerful magic possible. Harry had once again defeated Voldemort, this time as a teenager. Was it really so impossible to believe that there were such things as war-stakes and house wives, or that she herself had unknowingly accepted pursuit by a father and son?

An hour later, she found herself outside the Headmaster's office. The door was half-open again, and Professor McGonagall and Molly Weasley were already there. Breakfast had been laid out on a table by the fireplace, and Hermione's stomach growled loudly. Molly looked up from where she sat pouring tea.

"Good morning, sweetheart! Come in, come in! Oooh, you are a sight for sore eyes. And you smell all outdoorsy, like you've just come from a nice walk." Here Molly smiled in an understanding way, "Hopefully it's helped you clear your thoughts. Now, let's fill a plate for you. Come on, come on!"

Molly's motherly bossing was just what Hermione needed. She sat down and allowed herself to be cared for by the older witch as her professor looked on knowingly. Finally, her appetite sated, she paused in her eating. Molly seemed to have been waiting for this, and nodded expectantly, "Yes, dear?"

"It's just that . . . I have so many . . . there's so much I don't . . ."

"Start somewhere - anywhere."

"Umm, all right. Well, how did I not know you're a house witch?"

"Well, mainly because Arthur is my only living husband. The circumstances are different in each family, dear. When I accepted pursuit by the House of Weasley, Arthur's father was still alive, and then there were Arthur's own brothers. They had all placed stakes - not war-stakes, mind you - and after a few months, I accepted."

"Wait - you were given time to think about it? Do you mean that the Malfoys didn't expect me to just take the stake right off?"

Molly giggled. "Oh, I'd have _loved_ to see their faces when you just took the stake from Albus! You never do anything by halves, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled. It was nice to think that, in that moment, the Malfoy men had been on equally unsure footing with her. Then she computed the rest of what Molly had been saying.

"How many husbands did you marry, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Please call me Molly, dear. The ceremony included four Weasley men and me. Of course, Arthur's father passed a few years after, rest his soul. He was Bill's father, by the way."

"What?! That makes Bill your husband's brother, then . . ."

"That's part of what makes the tradition a bit confusing. If you think about it, though, having children with different but closely related fathers means the most possible combinations of family traits. Most family covenants seem to keep track of things quite well, though - inbreeding is extremely rare. Of course, you also have to factor in that only the old families practice this tradition, and none are as prolific as the House of Weasley."

"Are any of you other children . . .?"

"Oh, well Percy of course - he's obviously not Arthur's child! I conceived him with Aldric. The rest are all Arthur's. Aldric and Abott were killed in the early part of the first war, and so while I am still technically house wife, my duties have changed significantly."

Hermione sat in silence for some time, digesting this new knowledge.

"Do you . . . were you relieved somewhat when it became just you and Arthur?"

"It's true that it's much simpler to please one man than four, but Hermione - they _loved_ me! I will never forget the feeling of constant safety and support that filled our home. There were fights then just as there are fights now that it's just Arthur and me, but that's completely normal. My biggest struggle was trying to keep things fair . . ."

"Umm, what do you mean by keep things fair?"

"Oh, you know men - they don't like to share their toys. I didn't become so bossy overnight, sweetheart; it came from years of keeping my husbands on a strict schedule. Four husbands and only seven nights in a week, and then add in children!" Molly laughed, a faraway look in her eye.

"I would put up a calendar each month, and divvy up all available nights between them as fairly as I could. Whoever ended up short got afternoon time, and if someone happened to feel that they were still coming in last place, well - that's what morning quickies were for!"

Hermione stared in wide-eyed horror at Molly Weasley. "You mean to say that you were having . . . that you were with each of them _that way_ all day and night, every day and night? I didn't even know that was . . ." _Great and good Circe, are all wizards sex addicts?!_

Molly snapped out of her reverie. "Oh." She laughed. "Oh! Oh, sweetheart. No, you misunderstand me. Just because it was on the calendar doesn't mean that we were having sex. Sometimes it meant that we were just spending time together, and other times it meant that I was on my own and no one else could use that time for any needs of their own. Abott was particularly thoughtful that way - he would opt to spend his time with me helping in the kitchen, or send me away from the house for a bit."

Here Molly changed her tone to a brisk one, signaling a change of topic. "Besides, your stake was cast by a house with only two potential husbands. That's a much more common situation! When Narcissa was wife to the House of Malfoy, she was wedded to two as well - Abraxas and Lucius. And she produced only the one heir."

Professor McGonagall steered the conversation towards the rules of a traditional formal courtship, thinking Hermione needed a chance to make one of her beloved lists. She was correct; the young witch desperately needed to stop thinking about what would happen after the ceremony.

"Would you like a quill and parchment?"

"Oh, yes please!"

"Firstly, you may now only address other men in a formal way. Excepting Harry, this includes everyone."

"Including the Malfoy men?"

"Yes. During the courtship, all men shall be addressed as 'my lord,' or Mister So-and-So, or sir."

"Please tell me that changes after courtship!"

"That is up to your husbands. This is a very constant, public way for them to claim you."

"What do you mean?"

"I still cannot believe you haven't noticed this in your interactions with your peers! The wizarding world utilizes the use of formal address as a means to identify house wives. Have you never heard an older female student address a teacher or classmate in this way?"

"Oh! Yes, I have, actually! It was Astoria Greengrass, just last week in Potions! The boy who shares a table with her asked her a question, and she answered him that way. I thought it was so odd . . ."

"Correct. Astoria has accepted a stake from the House of Nott. Perhaps I will invite her to join us for a conversation sometime. It might help to talk with someone your own age."

"Thank you. All right, so formal address to everyone except Harry."

"At some point in the courtship, it will be natural to call your future husbands by their given names. There is no rule about this, and so you may trust your feelings to guide you."

"Got it. Next?"

"You may not spend time outside of class with any male student other than Harry."

"So, I can study alone with Harry, but I can't study alone with anyone else who happens to be male?"

Molly looked shocked at this idea. "Absolutely not, sweetheart! _No one_. It would cast doubt on your virtue and even possibly taint the name of your future family."

"Not even Ron?"

"_Certainly_ not Ron! Hermione, all but one of my sons cast war-stakes for you. They were accepted by Albus, but since the entire family didn't act in accord it was his right to deny precedence. Had all of my boys cast, you would have received not one, but two stakes to consider. Associating with Ron would be highly offensive to the House of Malfoy."

"Oh. Errr, may I ask who . . .?"

Molly's face fell. She looked down at the table and seemed to be trying to collect herself. When she did look back up at the young witch, Hermione saw her eyes were heavy with tears. "Ron. He has always been a foolish boy, but in this instance Arthur and I are so deeply disappointed in him that I do not think we can forgive him."

Hermione felt faint. _All of the Weasley boys cast stakes for me but Ron. Bill and Charlie, Fred and George, even Percy found me desirable. Their family covenant clearly found me bespoke. Would he have ever done it?_

Molly seemed to have read her thoughts. "He always maintained that he would cast when the time was right. Now it's too late."

The young witch lapsed into silence again.

"If you want to know what I think about it, Hermione, it's that the covenant isn't very strong in Ron. It happens once in a while - some think it's a covenant's way of weeding out weak wizards. My other sons will have to force his stake the next time they find a bespoke witch. Unless, of course, Arthur and the boys choose to disown him. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you will never be my lawful daughter. I would have shared my House status with you gladly."

The three witches moved on down the list of rules. Once again, making a list proved comforting to Hermione. The scratch of the quill across the parchment was soothing, and gave her the opportunity to keep her thoughts fact-based.

"Absolutely _no_ gifts from any male except Harry. This means not even a quill offered by a classmate during an exam!"

"Shouldn't I accept something given by the Malfoys?"

"Only, and I repeat _only_, if it is accepted on your behalf by Albus and then given to you by him."

"I'm sure that makes sense to someone. What's next?"

Apparently Hermione wasn't allowed to go anywhere without an approved escort. Harry, Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster counted as her defaults, and only the latter could approve a substitute.

"Your attire should reflect the status of your future family. In your case, my dear, that is indeed quite high. You may not wear any clothing which might be considered inappropriate."

"What exactly is inappropriate? That's a subjective term."

"Which is why your future husbands have provided a guideline."

_Of course they have._ "Please share."

"You may not wear the following sorts of garments except with express permission from them or Albus: ending more than an inch your knee, with excessive décolletage, or of a figure-baring fit."

"I don't wear those sorts of clothes anyway!"

"I did say that to you yesterday."

"Sorry, I'm confused. Isn't that a bit backward? Isn't it normal for wizards to want to see witches in, errr . . . inappropriate garments?"

Molly raised her eyebrows and smiled at a point behind Hermione's head. She seemed to find the tapestry that hung there amusing.

Professor McGonagall answered her, trying not to grin as well. "Yes. And no. My dear, the purpose of these rules is to maintain your virtue until the wedding day. I'm sure the list is more to keep your men in line than control you. They obviously find you attractive; there's no reason to tempt them beyond reasonable limits."

Molly added, "And _no_ wizard likes to see his witch put herself on display for the world to see. However, it's entirely different if they _give_ you an inappropriate garment (here Molly wiggled her eyebrows at the girl).

Hermione's face flushed deep red. She tried to change the subject as quickly as possible. "So, next on the list is never be alone with either Malfoy without an approved chaperone. That would be you, Harry, or the Headmaster, correct? That probably means that Draco can never be considered a chaperone." _Wouldn't want one of my future husbands to besmirch my precious virtue_. She scribbled furiously on the parchment before her.

Minerva replied, "Correct. Next: you must keep your behavior as faultless as you normally do. I don't think you need help in this rule. Let's see . . . oh yes, lastly there is the rule forbidding you to-"

"YES! I know! Got it. We, ummm, don't need to go into it."

That piqued Molly's interest. "There's another rule in this courtship? What is it, dear?"

"Nothing worth mentioning, Mrs.- err, Molly!" But the person addressed had already turned to the Professor for an answer.

"Well, Minerva? What's got Hermione squirming over there?"

Professor McGonagall answered as if the information were an everyday matter. "They've added a rule forbidding any type of self-induced sexual release. Clever, if you think about it."

Molly smirked and nodded in agreement.

Hermione was embarrassed and fuming. "Yes, very clever. Why shouldn't someone I don't even know give me orders regarding what I can and cannot do to my own body?" Tears pricked at her eyes.

The two witches wiped the smiles form their faces immediately. It was Molly who attempted to redress the matter. "Oh, sweetheart. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex and pleasure are quite natural to talk about, but only once you've been properly bedded. You're still a virgin, and so it's fitting to feel the way you do. And we aren't laughing at you, or this rule in your courtship. Minerva only said it was clever because if you think about, your future husbands want to be the ones to meet your needs in that area. I'm sure in their minds, by the time of the ceremony you will be a needful, writhing mess. And to a man, that is a very good thing."

Hermione wiped at her eyes and pondered how much she didn't know about being a witch - and about being an adult. She would never have admitted it in that moment, but she was incredibly grateful to have these two honest, kind women to help guide her.

Minerva, remorseful for her insensitive remark, tried to change the subject yet again to something Hermione might find less . . . anything. "Have you told Molly about the party tonight, dear?"

Hermione dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose on the napkin that had been in her lap. She took a deep breath and accepted the unspoken apology from her professor. "Well, Slytherin house is hosting a party tonight. Professor McGonagall thinks I should go."

"Well, of _course_ you should, sweetheart! Oh, yes, yes! This is _exactly_ the thing you need to take your mind off things for a while. And you'll see Draco there, as well!"

Hermione looked at Molly as though she'd sprung a second head. "And how is a party hosted by Draco supposed to help me get my mind off of him?!"

"Just think - the evening will be on your terms! You decide when to arrive and depart, and what you do in between."

"Yes, because I'll be able to talk with anyone I wish, dance or sit with anyone I wish, and leave on my own! What's the point of going to a party if I have to follow these rules the entire time - I'll end up standing in a corner the whole time, trying to avoid anything even remotely fun! Oh, wait - I can be near Harry. Which means I'll undoubtedly be subjected to an evening of public debauchery. Thank you, Molly."

"For what, dear?"

"For helping me talk myself out of going. I'll have more fun on my own in my dorm with my books. Unless I need a chaperone to read something written by a wizard."

"Absolutely not. Ginny and Luna have both spoken to me about the shopping trip. I know how much you've been looking forward to dressing up and having some fun. You will leave this meeting and go _straight_ to your room to wait for them." Molly's bossy tone had crept into her voice, and Hermione had always been slightly terrified of that tone. She nodded her head obediently.

"Yes, Molly. Oh." A questioning look came into Hermione's eyes. "Molly, did you say you spoke to both Ginny and Luna?"

Molly smiled in understanding. "I know all about those two and Harry."

"And . . . you're okay with it? Isn't it a bit strange, even by pureblood standards? Sorry, I just mean . . ."

"No offense taken. I know it's all new to you. And, yes - I accept their relationship. Harry loves the girls, and they adore him. I've always hoped Ginny and Harry would end up together. Luna seems to make them complete. It's not that strange for someone in his position, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a war hero, and also the last of his house. Traditionally, a hero of his stature is gifted with multiple wives by houses hoping to make an alliance. Of course, in these modern times, we don't just give our daughters away without their consent. Also, as the last Potter, he has the legal right to establish a harem-based household as a way to build up his family once again. There's a very beautiful ancient ceremony used for such weddings."

"I shouldn't be shocked, I know. But this means that Ginny isn't a house wife, right? Did you want that for her?"

"Ginny has received no stakes, and I can only assume that's because she's not a good fit for any of the ancient families. However, as the seventh child of a very prolific house, she's a very lucky mate for a war hero. She'll provide him with lots of heirs, as will Luna."

"Have you actually _seen_ them together, Molly?" Minerva murmured knowingly.

"Yes, Harry's got quite the . . .appetite, doesn't he? Not that the girls complained. They came for a visit two weekends ago. It was rather inspiring for me and Arthur, too . . ."

The two continued talking, having forgotten Hermione's presence momentarily. Hermione couldn't get her mouth open to beg them to stop. She was frozen in her spot, and, having seen the threesome in many compromising . . . positions . . . her brain supplied images to go along with the women's conversation.

' . . . heard a noise in the kitchen, so of course I looked in. Harry had Ginny bent over the table, taking her from behind, and Luna was straddling Ginny's back! She had rubbed chocolate icing all over her breasts, and Harry was licking them clean. That boy is insatiable, Minerva!"

Hermione's favorite professor looked a bit flustered, and she had a heated look in her eye. _This has to stop now. Before Professor McGonagall launches into one of Harry's school exploits. Because some are far worse than that. I need to bleach my brain_.

She stood, scraping her chair noisily across the floor. "This has been a very . . . informative . . . meeting. Thank you both so much for all your help. I should . . . go . . . to get ready for the dance. Yes, I'll go! I'm going now!"

Anything could be better than those two and the subject of sex. Gaaaah! Hermione willingly threw herself into the clutches of Ginny and Luna for an afternoon of makeovers just to escape Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everybody - thanks again for the love notes! I loved reading your comments. It's going to be a slow burn for our sweet heroine, but Harry and the girls will keep you company along the way.**

**You'll continue to have questions about all sorts of things because you won't know 'til Hermione finds out. See how that works? It's called evil genius.**

**marianna79 and Yeddi, I love all your questions!**

**BW**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 5 - Saturday

Hermione looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Her sleeveless dress, which seemed slightly naughty in her own eyes, was still demure. The silky, iridescent fabric draped across her body, ending at the top of her knees. The boat neckline bared her collarbones and fell in soft folds lower on her chest, revealing the tiniest hint of the tops of her breasts. As she moved in the light, the bottle-green material took on a subtle, silvery sheen. On impulse, she added a favorite necklace - a delicate chain with a charm Harry had given her shortly after the war. _To remember our fun at Gringotts_, he'd said with a grin. The little Ukrainian Ironbelly, meticulously wrought in silver, never failed to remind her of the strength she carried within.

She had been soaked, scrubbed, plucked, oiled, manicured, had her hair done, make-up applied, and had even been dressed by her two friends. Luna had gone so far as to kneel down and buckle the straps of Hermione's lovely little heels. She and Ginny had left her alone for a few minutes, but promised to return soon. Harry was waiting for them in the common room already.

The afternoon had been productive in more than one way. Firstly, of course, was the transformation her two friends had achieved for her. She really couldn't stop looking at herself in the mirror! Secondly, she had drummed up the courage to tell the girls about the war-stake, her premature acceptance of it, and the courtship that had presumably begun. It was unbelievable how readily they accepted every part, but then again they were purebloods. This was knowledge they had possessed their entire lives. Luna had immediately run to tell Harry about it so that he knew his role. Now he would escort her to and from the party. _The party!_ Hermione's stomach felt as though it were full of butterflies caught in a windstorm. She clutched at it, and her determination faltered slightly. _How is it I could face a dark lord, but not the boy to whom I accidentally engaged myself?_

It had been three days since she had taken the magical scroll from the Headmaster's hand, and in that time (admittedly, one of those days she had hid in professor McGonagall's rooms) she hadn't seen Draco Malfoy once. Was he hiding from her? Did he regret his decision already? Hermione tried to reason with herself. _Yes, he's probably hiding. He's probably as nervous as I am._ And it wasn't likely that he would regret a decision that had been made long ago and probably could have been legally retracted. The truth was, Draco and she were in similar positions - but, as professor McGonagall had pointed out, she knew Draco's intent and he knew nothing of hers.

This gave her just enough courage to walk down to the common room and her friends. Harry noticed her white knuckles as she grasped the railing, and smiled sympathetically.

"Ready, 'Mione?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's go now so we can be back here sooner."

Harry offered his arm to her, and gratefully accepted. Ginny and Luna walked slightly behind them, chatting away.

"By the way, you look amazing tonight. Draco won't know what hit him. It'll be the Yule Ball all over again."

"Thank you. The- what?"

"Oh, you remember. You wore that beautiful gown and your hair was all done up. You even had make-up on. Draco just stood by the punch bowl and drooled." He glanced over at his friend's startled face. "You didn't know? He's liked you for ages, 'Mione. _Really_ liked you. I learned all about pureblood traditions from Ron and Neville over the years, and I'm not shocked about the Malfoy stake."

Hermione mouth hung slightly open as she walked beside Harry, trying to process what he had just said. _Draco's liked me - really liked me - for ages. And I never noticed. And now we're engaged to be married, and we've never had a real conversation. And let's not forget - I'm marrying his father as well. Muggles would eat this stuff up on toast. Draco likes me._

"Umm, thank you, I guess. I'm so glad to have your support, Harry. This is all so new to me! If only I had known what was happening, I would never have taken that scroll from Dumbledore so quickly. I . . . I would have thought about it, and maybe got to know Draco, beforehand."

Harry put his other hand over Hermione's, which was resting on his forearm, and gave it a firm squeeze. "I think what happened was meant to be, 'Mione. Being a house wife is a huge distinction, and you deserve to be honored. Always. The Malfoys will take care of you, and they'll love you. I think you'll find that you can love them, too. Just give it time."

Harry's words filled her with hope and bravery. She lifted her chin a bit higher and smiled at him gratefully.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. The Slytherins had decorated the walls of their dungeons with alternating tapestries of shimmering silver and deep, luminescent green. The effect was, for lack of a better word, magical. Hermione paused on the threshold of the common room, gathering her courage. When Harry tugged her forward, she followed, glancing back at the door longingly.

"We'll just plan to stay an hour or so, right? And if you need to leave earlier for a really good reason, I'll take you back to your dorm. Try to relax, 'Mione. It's a party."

Harry dragged her to the middle of the room where a crowd of students was dancing to loud, pulsing music. Ginny and Luna joined them, and Hermione relaxed and let the music guide her movements. She had never been a confident dancer, but these parties had shown her that no one was watching with a critical eye. Ginny and Luna were a riot, with their ridiculous over-the-top hip swinging and exaggerated sexy pouts, and Hermione joined in their game. Soon others were mimicking the silly moves as well.

She recognized a few Gryffindors in their midst, and was glad when she remembered the rules that had just been explained so carefully to her. Hermione made sure to keep her distance from all the boys, even ones she considered friends. She swung round at one point to find Ron right behind her with a feral look on his face. His eyes, which must have been glued to her bottom, were now fixed on her chest. Hermione found herself appalled at the way he was looking at her, and she turned around again and moved as far away as possible.

They must have carried on for an hour on the dance floor, when Harry finally began complaining of being tired and thirsty. Hermione agreed with him. "You're right. Why don't we get a drink?"

He guided her across the room, noticing all the looks Hermione was garnering. She really looked nice tonight, and interestingly enough, her dress was the same color green as the decorations. She was even wearing some silver to complete the similarity - she wore a delicate chain around her neck from which hung a small charm. They stopped at a table, against the far wall, laden with bottles and punch bowls and rows of glasses.

"Circe's left tit - look at this spread!" He whistled and turned with a grin. "Pick your poison, "Mione!"

She glanced around at the choices and decided to finally see what all the fuss was about firewhiskey. However, Harry had no sooner poured her a small bit in a glass and turned to hand it to her when it was intercepted by a large, pale hand. Draco Malfoy had made his appearance.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you would care for a different beverage?" Draco was placing a tall, stemmed glass filled with a bubbly, pale gold liquid in her hand.

Hermione scowled at him and brought the glass to her lips. _He did it again! What is wrong with him- Oh._ As the crisp, cold champagne hit her taste buds she smiled involuntarily. It might have been aimed in Draco's general direction. Harry excused himself, telling Hermione he would be nearby.

Draco held up the glass of firewhiskey originally intended for her. He looked at it thoughtfully, then raised it to his mouth and drained it in one gulp. His lips tightened into a thin line and he gave a small shudder, then looked down at Hermione.

"For courage." He looked nervous, and that somehow helped her relax a little bit.

"I don't see why you should need courage for a scolding, Mr. Malfoy!" She was frowning at him.

Draco looked confused. "I beg you pardon?"

"You are insufferable! When was the last time you let me have fun of any kind?" Her frown had turned to an outright scowl.

He looked even more confused, and so she continued, "You are the most aggravating drink stealing, curfew calling, flirt-interrupting . . . _person_ . . . I know! You have been foiling my fun for years!"

Draco looked down at her from his considerable height with an expression of confusion and distress, and then what could Hermione do but smile at him? She beamed at him, a small, nervous giggle escaping her. "I'm sorry. That was very rude of me. I'm a little nervous, I guess. Being angry sometimes helps me get over it."

"I am . . . confused. Are you upset with me, or nervous, or angry?"

"I am very nervous. And I don't want to be, so I am trying to be angry. But I'm not upset with you, not really - although you really have made a habit of keeping me from fun over the years."

Draco's eyes were smiling, but his mouth was solemn. _That is a VERY good look. It's almost a twinkle . . ._ "From trouble."

"Err, what?"

"I have made a habit of keeping you from trouble over the years. It's been a past time of mine."

"Is that what you were doing?"

"Yes. For instance, take firewhiskey-"

"Well, I_ would_, only you won't _let _me." _Sweet Merlin, he twinkled at me._

"It's not a drink for someone with no tolerance for alcohol. Had I not kept it from you, you would have either fallen asleep in a corner and been taken advantage of by some boy, or lost all your senses and been taken advantage of by some boy."

"Oh."

"Yes, as you say, 'oh.' Did you not think of that?"

"I . . .I've never had enough alcohol to know how much about it. In light of that, I thank you very, very much."

Now the smile had reached his mouth, and he gave her a slight, one-sided smile. An almost-smile. "I'd ask you to dance, but you seem to have worn yourself out."

"Yes, I did. It's nice to finally talk to you, though. Unless you'd like to find someone else to dance with."

Draco looked horrified. "Why would I do that?"

"Perhaps you really, really like to dance . . .I wouldn't know - I don't know anything about you. Oh - are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you even allowed to dance with someone else, or do the rules of this courtship not apply to you?"

His face had relaxed from its previous look of horror, and he offered her his arm. "There are different rules for me. Many more, in fact. Would you care to sit and talk some more?"

Hermione took his arm and smiled at him. _He's not that bad. A bundle of nerves, yes. But so am I. He has the best twinkle. This might be nice_. "I'd like that very much."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi Peeps, just a quick note of thanks for your encouragement! Lots more friends popped in to leave notes, and I am just tickled that you're enjoying this as much as I am.**

**Please know that I tend to be a funny girl, and a lot of the scenes in this story are intended to be (at least on some level) amusing. This might not be a completely serious piece (except when Lucius is involved, because there's nothing funny about Mr. Malfoy).**

**Oh - after receiving some irate messages about the fact that this story is OOC, I wanted to officially state that my story is OOC. See how that works? The ultimate power of the pen!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 6 - Sunday Afternoon

Hermione and Draco had talked into the evening. They had both kept the conversation relatively light, choosing to skirt the topic of the courtship and anything too closely related. Instead, their talk had been much like Hermione imagined it would be on a first date. Better, really, if she compared this to the awkward evening she had spent evading Viktor Krum's paws at the Yule Ball.

They had shared favorite school experiences and even traded compliments shyly. She had told him of her detailed plans to 'foil his own fun' at this very party, and he had laughed a soft, husky laugh. In the end, Harry had come to the table and practically dragged her away. By the looks on his and his girls' faces, the three were in a hurry to find some public place to defile. Hermione almost suggested they just shag each other at the party, so she could stay a while longer, and then thought better of it.

Draco had brought her hand to his mouth and bowed over it slightly for a moment before gently kissing the back of it. Hermione had blushed and wished him pleasant dreams, and then allowed Harry to chaperone her back to the Gryffindor common room. From there, she had floated up to her dorm room in a daze.

Now she lay in her bed, replaying some of the nicer moments in her mind over and over.

_They had been sitting at a table in a corner, and it was small enough that if they both leaned across the tabletop they could carry on an audible conversation. Draco's arms were folded on the tabletop in front of him, but Hermione's nervous fingers toyed with a cloth napkin for a good while before he had tugged it from her hands with an almost-smile and found her another glass of champagne. That had helped a bit. They had been talking about favorite things, and Draco had said his favorite color was green._

_"Shocking," Hermione had smirked._

_Draco had looked down quickly at her dress, and then up at her face, letting his eyes travel over her hair before returning to her eyes. "You're wearing my favorite shade tonight."_

_"I am? That's a coincidence."_

_"A very happy one. You look lovely in it."_

_Hermione swooned a little. No one had ever payed her such a romantic compliment before._

She went to bed early that night, eager to dream about the evening, but not before she carefully hung up the beautiful green dress.

The next morning came and went, and Hermione slept on. She finally awoke at noon, startled by the loud pop of another summons. It landed in her lap. This one was for the first official visit by the Malfoys, and Hermione was instructed to appear in Dumbledore's office at four o'clock. Not knowing what else to do, she drew on her robe, left her room, and began the convoluted process of going to Professor McGonagall's chambers. It seemed like another impromptu meeting was in order.

After waking Ginny (who groggily demanded a brief explanation), who went to find Luna, who was probably with Harry, who would need to escort her to McGonagall's rooms, Hermione went back to her room and decided to use what might be a large chunk of time wisely. She showered and, back in her robe, began digging through her clothes for something that might be appropriate for such an occasion. It wasn't that she didn't have nice things, but Draco's wonderful compliment from the night before kept playing through her thoughts. _Surely I have something else that might make me look . . . lovely?_

By the time Ginny returned to tell her that she had found Luna, who had woke Harry, who first begged a shower and then would be waiting in the common room, Hermione was a wreck. The contents of her wardrobe and trunk were scattered everywhere, and the young witch was crumpled up on the floor, gently hugging the beautiful, bottle-green dress. She looked up at her friend's arrival. "Oh, Gin. What am I to do?"

As the youngest child (who happened to be the only witch) in a large and less-than-prosperous family, Ginny sussed out the situation immediately. Hands on her hips, she adopted a tone eerily like her mother's. She seemed to be channeling Molly directly, in fact.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you stop your moping _this instant_! Yes, you looked amazing in that dress, and Draco noticed. But _good grief_ (here her voice had hit a shrieking pitch briefly which made Hermione actually flinch)! He'd notice you the same way if you showed up in a house-elf hanky! Oh. Well, _yes he would, wouldn't he!_ That might not be the comparison I was going for, but _you know what I mean! _Now quit your sniveling and help me sort through these things. _Honestly. Do I have to do EVERYTHING?"_

Hermione was sufficiently terrified, and helped clean up the mess and make a pile of possible outfits. Ginny looked through the garments and decided upon a long green silk scarf. "Right. Off we go. We'll fix the rest of you afterward."

Hermione tried to argue that she couldn't exactly wear just a scarf, but Ginny pushed her out the door and down the stairs to Harry, shouting the whole time. "Come on, you two! We don't have time for all this lollygagging! Let's go, let's go!"

As Ginny dragged them out the door and down the hall, Harry threw a disturbed glance at Hermione, whispering "She's scary when she's like this. What did you do to set her off?"

"Just do what she says."

Hermione didn't have the heart to tell Harry that she had the seen the future, and that in it Ginny bore a striking resemblance to her mother.

They arrived at Professor McGonagall's chambers breathless, with the redhead still clearly in charge. She dismissed Harry, telling him she'd let him know when he was needed again. Harry paused momentarily, and then with a shove of his glasses to set them back in place, meekly made a suggestion. "About that. I was thinking that we could maybe use the charmed galleons to communicate. What do you think?"

Hermione was surprised that she hadn't thought of that herself. The coins, along with many other war relics, had long been hidden at the bottoms of trunks by those who wanted to forget why such things had been needed in the first place. Harry's idea was a solid one; using the coins would mean that she would always be able to contact him, and thereby avoid being in breach of the courtship rules.

"That's brilliant, Harry! I'll hunt mine down when I get back to my room, and you do the same. Can you meet us back here, say, in an hour?"

"Add another thirty minutes to that, and it's a deal."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look in which Ginny was clearly communicating a warning to him.

"Or not. I'll see you in exactly sixty minutes." He turned and took off running down the hall.

Hermione turned to Ginny. "Do I even want to know?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, we've left Luna to keep him company, and their idea of a-"

"No, I most definitely do not. That's quite enough, Gin."

Professor McGonagall answered their knock quickly with an air of premeditation, and so Hermione knew the older witch had been expecting them. Ginny was talking before the door was completely open. "Right. So Draco paid Hermione a _very_ nice compliment last night, and now she's in a panic about what to wear this afternoon. We have three hours to get her ready, and I'm sure she'll want to waste - sorry, _spend_ - part of that having one of your empowering chats, so here's the plan."

The plan, it seemed, was the transfiguration of a green silk scarf into something worthy of another _nice_ compliment. Hermione was relegated to the couch as the other two talked and gestured, all the while giving her appraising glances. It was actually a good plan, seeing as Ginny was a fashionable dresser and their professor was skilled in transfigurations. Hermione was humbled by the fact that it hadn't occurred to her. _Brightest witch of my age, my sainted aunt. No wonder Ginny was so cross with me!_

It took twenty minutes of rapid-fire, whispered discussion, and only one attempt. The dress was perfect, and a very un-Hermione-like squeal rose to her lips when she had donned the new dress and seen herself in the mirror. It hung on her shoulders by thin straps, skimmed the curves of her torso, and then flared out at her hips in a long kerchief style. She gave an impulsive swirl, and the silk followed her movements gracefully.

"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever . . . it's so . . ."

"Yes, yes - thank us profusely. Just warn your wizards not to use Finite you-know-what-um, or we'll get to test my house-elf-hankie theory. Never mind, Professor. Enjoy the moment, because as soon as we get back to the dorm, I'm going to yank that hair into submission." Ginny was obviously pleased with herself, as was their professor.

Harry was waiting in the hallway when they stepped through the doorway. Hermione promised to return for a preparatory meeting at three o'clock, and was promptly dragged off by Ginny.

The redheaded witch could certainly follow a schedule and manage staff, as evidenced by the fact that Hermione found herself back outside McGonagall's door with Harry with two minutes to spare. As soon as the door swung open, Harry was off like a shot, calling out a reminder for her to use her galleon to summon him. The professor followed him with her eyes until he rounded the corner, murmuring, "Such stamina. . . ."

For the first time since people had begun commenting in her presence about Harry's sexual proclivities, Hermione found herself replying. "That's for sure. If Professor Dumbledore only knew what kind of man he's allowed to act as my brother."

McGonagall smiled at the young witch. "Oh, my dear! That old fox doesn't miss anything that happens in this castle. Regardless of Harry's preferences, the Headmaster knows that boy thinks of you only as a sister. He was by far the safest choice. Now, to business."

Hermione was handed quill and paper to ground her thoughts, and they began. Apparently this first visit was to be highly structured, and the young witch needed to be in the know.

"First of all, there is your entry and the introductions . . ."

They proceeded to the crux of the visit, which was the public acceptance of the war-stake before all vested parties. There would be a representative from the ministry to witness this part.

"You must not hesitate, Hermione. I know you too well to think that you would make a scene at this point. You _must_ take the stake without pause . . ."

After the short ceremony of acceptance, there would be time to talk with each of her future husbands individually.

"This is a chance to break the ice, so to speak. You are not the first witch to accept a stake from virtual strangers, which is why traditional courtships are set up the way they are. You will have many visits between now and your wedding ceremony in which to become familiar with your wizards . . ."

Many visits, she learned upon asking, meant as many as could be fit into the next two weeks. That had caused a small meltdown, as Hermione hadn't realized she would be married so quickly. "An _accidental_ acceptance becomes _legally binding_. I am betrothed to not one but _two_ wizards, one of whom is about twenty years older than me, AND I am to marry them in _TWO WEEKS_!"

No amount of furious argument changed those facts, and Hermione knew it. She wasn't getting out of this. Still, it felt good to blow off some steam.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Hermione! You enjoyed yourself with the boy last night. You're being a bit unreasonable."

"I'm still being married off! In _TWO WEEKS_! To _TWO_ wizards!"

"According to very ancient and still popular tradition."

Professor McGonagall was determined to keep her on track, too, and only gave her a few minutes to vent before returning to the original topic.

The visits, she explained, would be mostly impromptu. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was an aggressive businessman and had a tight schedule. Hermione would have to be on call every day. She and Draco would be allowed to see one another outside of the visits as long as Harry chaperoned.

"One more thing, dear; at the end of the visit, there will be a few more ceremonial parts. I won't trouble you with them because it's best to keep them spontaneous. Now summon that athletic brother of yours; it's time to get going."

Thank you, Professor. I'm so grateful to you for all your help. It's nice to know I'm not alone."

Minerva McGonagall's eyes misted over, and she smiled tenderly at the young witch in before her. "Oh, my dear, you aren't alone at all. And I think it's time you started calling me by my given name."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi Peeps! Hope you all had a great weekend. My awesome beta must have had a busy week, because she hasn't sent me back this week's chapters. Please forgive any mistakes you find. **

**lucy02: Yes, this Hermione could be construed as weak. I didn't want a battle-maiden, or even a brash, bossy young woman. That's been done enough. She'll bounce back somewhat once the shock wears off, but those Malfoys are dominant dudes.**

**arabellagrace and Shining Bright eyes: I'm glad you like the support network of Minerva and Molly! They crack me up.**

**dutch potterfan: you're awesome.**

**la belladonna: thank you for the great note. I'm going to share part of my response with everyone, in case others have similar questions. I am meting out information about OOC things through conversation. This means that we don't find out until Hermione does. Otherwise there'd be chapters and chapters of exposition (and chapter 1 was enough of that, I think).**

**Sorry for the chatty note. **

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 7 - Sunday

Three forty-five that afternoon found Harry leading Hermione through the castle. The young witch turned a few heads along the way, which Harry helpfully pointed out.

"Just - will you _stop_ it! They're only curious about why I'm all dressed up, is all. Most of them have never seen me in anything other than robes, jeans, and trainers."

"Sure, 'Mione. That's what's why all the guys are staring."

"Honestly! Maybe I have something on my face. Do I? Please check! There's something there, isn't there?!"

Harry glanced at Hermione's face with a concerned look. "Hermione, what happened to the confident witch that helped me defeat a dark lord? You're a mess lately. If you don't want to do this, then say the word and I'll take you back up to Professor McGonagall. Hang the Malfoys - I just want you to be happy."

She frowned. "This is a lot to process in such a short amount of time, Harry! No, I haven't changed my mind. A few days ago, I would have said that I was keeping my word out of honor. Then I didn't let myself think too much for a while. Do you remember what you said last night, about it being meant to happen? I'm starting to feel the same way - as though this was meant to be. Is this what destiny feels like? I'm just nervous, and hoping I don't have something on my face, because _you're right, people are staring_!"

Harry grinned and leaned in to whisper, "It's the dress. I can't decide if it's incredibly innocent or incredibly sexy, but if you weren't my 'sister' I'd probably be staring, too."

She mock-punched him, and as he leaned away, he remembered something. Fishing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out her necklace with the charm he had given her. "Here, better put this on before you go in. Ginny says so."

They paused at the foot of the staircase leading to the Headmaster's office, and Harry gave her one last smile as she smoothed the chain against the fabric of the dress. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the pendant, and he grinned. "Ginny's a very smart girl. See you later."

At the top of the staircase, Hermione paused. The door was closed, and she knew it was expected that she knock, even though they were expecting her at this time. Her hand came up, and she rapped her knuckles softly against the solid wood twice. Professor Dumbledore opened it to her, welcoming her in.

"Please come in. Gentlemen, Miss Hermione Jean Granger." He drew her in with a wave of his hand, and she made it a few steps before she waited for the next part. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Mr. Draco Hyperion Malfoy, and Mr. Hareton Scurrows, who is here on behalf of the Ministry of Magic to witness the completion of this stake-casting."

As they were introduced, each man bowed formally to her, and in that moment she could have kissed Minerva McGonagall's cheek, because she had prepared Hermione beautifully. Hermione swept a deep curtsy to each man, keeping her eyes at ground level. Professor Dumbledore led her to the center of the room, where a circle had been drawn on the floor. She stepped into its center.

The Headmaster stood directly in front of her, just outside the circle, with the war-stake in his hands.

"Who has cast this war-stake for this lady?"

Now Lucius Malfoy and Draco stepped into the circle, one on each side of her. They spoke as one. "It has been cast unanimously by the House of Malfoy."

He addressed Hermione again. "My lady, a stake has been cast for your hand by the ancient and noble House of Malfoy. Do you accept this stake, and therefore the position of house wife?"

She curtsied low, and with knees still bent, stretched out her left hand as she raised her head to look Dumbledore in the eye. "I accept this stake, my lord."

'Then as the stake keeper until this moment, I give it to you as pledged wife to the House of Malfoy. Present to me your pledged husbands."

Hermione rose to her full height, which felt shorter than usual with the two tall men standing so close to her, and handed the beautiful stake back to Dumbledore. She glanced up out of the corner of her eye to see which of the men stood at her left, then drew his hand into her own and held them toward the Headmaster. "My lord, I present to you my intended husband, Lucius Malfoy."

Then she did the same with Draco. Dumbledore wrapped the two sets of hands around the war-stake, so that Hermione's touched the scroll directly, and the men's hands covered hers. With his other hand, the Headmaster raised his wand. He traced intricate patterns in the air as he soundlessly breathed the spell. There was light, and heat, and the beautiful war-stake seemed to dissolve. As it did, though, Hermione felt a tingling sensation in her hands and wrists. Looking down, she saw bright silver tendrils curl around the ring finger of her left hand, and up the same wrist.

Without thought to the ceremony, she broke that hand free and held it aloft, that she might see it better. There, starting at the first knuckle of her left ring finger and wrapping around it several times only to spread delicately over the back of her hand and up and around her wrist and forearm, was a dragon. She gasped quietly, and then blushed when Lucius chuckled.

Mr. Scurrows stepped forward at that point to congratulate the Malfoy men, and to thank Professor Dumbledore for the simplicity of the ceremony. _I'm sure that translates to the speed of it. I wonder if some of these involve a lot more pomp and circumstance._ Lastly, the ministry official bowed before Hermione and thanked her for the honor of validating such an esteemed stake-casting. Hermione curtsied back, making a mental note to ask Professor Mc- _Minerva_ - about that later.

The easy part was done, now. She had known exactly what to expect and do at every step, and now she was on her own. It was time for conversation. She would have waffled in uncertainty, but Lucius Malfoy prevented that. "My lady, there is time now for us to become acquainted. Will you honor me with your company?"

He was already guiding her to the windowed alcove at the side of Dumbledore's office, where a single wingback chair sat facing the outside scenery. Hermione was confused for a brief moment about the seating arrangements, until Lucius sat down gracefully and drew her to sit on his lap. His hands wrapped loosely around her waist, and for the briefest of seconds Hermione panicked. Then it occurred to her that things couldn't possible be any stranger, and that she was, after all, going to marry this man in the very near future. Still, she was at a loss for words. She concentrated on her breathing until Lucius spoke.

"You have honored my house with your acceptance, lady, and your mastery of the ceremony was commendable. Surely, though, as a Muggle-born you have many questions still?"

She raised her eyes to meet his, and felt like the proverbial deer caught in the oncoming headlamps of a car. They were mesmerizing; distant, glacial blue, set widely under heavy brows. She stared until he lifted one of those handsome brows, at which she blushed and looked out the window before her. "Sir, I don't even know where to begin. I am at a complete loss."

The distinguished looking wizard held her in his piercing gaze. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he said, "I cast my stake when you were sixteen. However, I recognized you as bespoke much earlier. Draco and I were shopping for his first year school robes when you brushed against me in Madam Malkin's shop. Your magical signature was already so defined . . ."

Her mind was off and running with the information. _Why had he waited? Would it be rude to ask?_

"Perhaps you will indulge me by telling me of your year so far instead." She glanced at him quickly, and was struck by a sudden softening in his gaze. _He looks kind_.

"Well, my lord . . . it was difficult to come back to this place after the final battle, but necessary. You see, I wanted to leave Hogwarts on my own terms, and that didn't include memories tinged by hate and pain. I returned to vanquish my deepest fears once and forever. . ."

A small bell sounded somewhere, and Hermione returned to the present. She became aware that she was still perched on Lucius Malfoy's knee, that his hands were still at her waist, and that he had been listening to her babbling with rapt attention. The sound had brought both of them out of whatever bubble they had shared, and he gently lifted her off his knee. He bowed before her. "Thank you for indulging me, my lady. Until our next visit."

Here Lucius had raised her newly marked left hand and placed a kiss to the dragon's back. Hermione was surprised by her inner reaction to the simple gesture. It had caused her breath to catch and a warm flush to spread over her cheeks. He led her to the inner office, where Draco stood by the fireplace.

"My time has ended for today, it seems. Draco . . .?" Lucius handed her off to the younger wizard and turned in the direction of the Headmaster's desk.

Draco bowed slightly over her hand. "Miss Granger, will you visit with me?"

She smiled, thinking back to their time at the Slytherin party. "I'd like that."

Draco led them to the alcove, but instead of sitting himself, he offered her the chair. She sank into it gratefully. Draco leaned with his back against the window, facing her. He gave her an almost-smile.

"You're here."

"Yeees . . .?" Her response came as a drawn-out question.

"You didn't try to run off."

"I haven't fled screaming yet, have I?" Hermione attempted a smile and was sure it looked more like a grimace.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know - _not_ running out screaming? I don't think this is how Muggles do things."

"Not for a very long time, but anyhow I'm _not_ a Muggle any more. Haven't been since my parents died. This world is all I have, now. It's helped that my friends are mostly purebloods; the fact that they accept this as normal makes it . . . real."

"I'm sorry."

"For . . .?"

"Your parents. I lost my mother so long ago I can't remember her. I wouldn't wish that for anyone."

When had she moved from the chair? Yet here she was, standing in front of Draco, looking up into his handsome, solemn face. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

He almost-smiled at her and quickly changed the subject. "You're wearing my favorite color again."

Hermione blushed, her hands suddenly needing to be busy. She settled for toying with the material of her skirt until Draco said softly, "If you don't stop, I'll be forced to hunt you down a glass of champagne."

That brought a delighted smile to her lips, as more memories from the previous evening came to mind. "Are you keeping me from fun, Mr. Malfoy?"

His smile lifted both sides of his mouth for the first time, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. _He's so handsome._

"And that necklace - I've seen you wear it many times. Is it significant?" His eyes were on her charm, where it rested at the very top of the slight valley between her breasts.

"Harry gave it to me, but that's not really why I like it so much. I guess I don't know. It's been my favorite for as long as I've had it." She reached up unconsciously and stroked its smooth silver shape.

Draco was smiling again in a way that made the world go sideways for a moment. Just then, the bell rang again. Their conversation was at an end. Draco held out his hand to her, and she offered hers. He pressed his lips to it so gently she barely felt the pressure. They walked back toward the inner office.

Hermione's mind was working at lightning speed. The conversations had been exhausting, and yet easier than she would have imagined. Both men had been courteous, and they had both done their best to put her at ease. It was hard to think of them both without the use of comparisons. Lucius had taken charge from the moment he'd spoken to her, placing her on his knee; settling his hands about her waist; directing the conversation. The word _dominant_ came to mind. Draco, on the other hand, was hesitant and treated her as an equal of sorts. It had been obvious that he was affected by the slightest brush of their hands. Draco in one word? Perhaps, at this point, _safe. _So much to think about, but not right now. The Headmaster was summoning them together for the last few rites, or so she guessed. Draco led her to the circle they had used before.

Professor Dumbledore's face held no clue of what was to come next. Now for the ceremonial bits Minerva said would be best if spontaneous. _A hint would have been nice_. Hermione had never liked pop quizzes. The Headmaster bade them join hands and then placed them one atop the other. Then Lucius placed his unoccupied hand on top of the hand-knot, and Draco did the same on the bottom.

"This witch has accepted your stake, and I have given her to you for the furthering of your house. How will you keep her?" intoned Dumbledore.

Draco answered him; "She will dwell with us in the halls of our House."

Then it was Lucius' turn. "She will be bathed in honor and wrapped in glory."

"She will be filled with sons by us, and she will birth our champions" replied Draco.

"She will sit between us and sleep in our bed, and her breast shall bear our mark."

As Lucius finished speaking the last part, Dumbledore performed an intricate spell above their hand-knot. Hermione saw sparks and felt warmth flow through her hands from the Malfoy men. Her mind, ever busy, was thinking about the poetry of this ceremony (if she didn't think too much about the whole being filled with sons and bearing a mark on her breast. And what was this about 'our bed'? Hopefully the whole thing was metaphorical).

The men released her hands. Hermione tried to catch a glimpse of theirs, to see if they had been marked as well, but was unsuccessful. They both took a step back to stand slightly behind her, and wrapped their arms around her waist from each side. It was a cage-like feeling, and Hermione tried to focus on the next part of the ceremony itself rather than her own feelings about it.

Dumbledore began the next segment. "A House is founded on its warriors and furthered by its wife. Who takes up the burden of care for this wife-to-be?"

Lucius started this time. "By my hand shall her lips be fed."

"By my hand shall her body be clothed, " responded Draco.

"She will know the depth of my heart," said Lucius.

Draco finished, "And her pleasure shall be mine."

Regardless of her embarrassment with parts of it, it was beautiful and her body was responding to the sensuality of the ceremony's language. _Are the words always the same, or are they composed by the casters? _She shivered slightly at the idea that Draco might have written his lines with her in mind.

There was more to come, it seemed. Lucius and Draco released their hold on her waist and stepped forward so that they were a step in front of her now.

"Who brings a gift to this circle?" asked Dumbledore in a solemn voice.

"I bring a gift for my bride-to-be, and I will receive one from her," answered Lucius Malfoy.

"What is this gift, and what will you take?"

"I will take her maidenhead, and in return I will give her my fidelity," replied Lucius.

Hermione's face flushed deeply, and she kept her eyes fixed firmly at a spot to the left of the Headmaster. He reached down and took her hand, placing it in that of Lucius Malfoy.

"Your gift is acceptable. Yours shall be given on the wedding day. Who else brings a gift to this circle?"

Draco's soft, husky voice spoke firmly from above her, "I bring a gift for my bride-to-be, and I will receive one from her." He turned and reached out, taking her other hand in his and holding it to his chest.

"What is this gift, and what will you take?"

Draco looked down in to her face with his pale blue eyes, and Hermione was struck by the sudden confidence in his gaze. His hand dropped hers and gently touched her chin. Her own hand hovered uncertainly between them; her fingers still tingled with the warmth of his grasp.

"I will have your first kiss, and in exchange give you mine."

"Your gift is acceptable. Yours shall be granted this day."

He lowered his face to hers determinedly, leaning slightly to the side and gently pressing his lips to hers. It was tender and sweet, and the kind of kiss that Hermione had dreamed of all her life. His scent washed over her then, an echo of the war-stake's incredible fragrance. When he pulled away seconds later, she found that her heart was racing. Draco looked uncertain and as though he wanted to speak, but he kept silent and watched her response.

Hermione stepped away, backing out of the circle. "I . . . I need to go. Now." She turned and felt the eyes of the Malfoy men on her, following her retreat. Neither moved to stop her, nor did they say anything. Hermione fled the office at a pace much faster than her usual walk, although she forced herself to keep from actually running.

She ran until she came to the chambers of her favoite professor, the one who had helped create the beautiful dress she wore, and who had prepared her for the ceremony. Her knuckles rapped on the door frantically until, finally, it was opened.


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy Tuesday, everyone! This update is short but sweet. I'm working away at chapter 18 right now, if that's any consolation. Hermione isn't cooperating, Draco is sulking, and Lucius is amused - and that's just how they're acting toward me! I need to remind myself constantly that I'm the boss of these people!**

**Again, thank you for the encouragement. Anime-demon-child, that kind review made my entire day! Thank you for the compliment; now I'm freaking out about continuing to deliver ;). Well, if it all goes downhill from here at least I can blush in anonymity. Again, no beta.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 8 - Sunday

Minerva McGonagall opened the door for the young witch. "Please come in, Hermione."

No obstacle barring her path, Hermione wandered mechanically to the couch in the professor's sitting room and sat down. Heedless of her dress, she drew her legs up and tucked her knees under her chin like a young child.

The older witch followed slowly. She sat beside her student and stroked her hair softly. "Come now, child. Surely it isn't as bad as that. Will you tell me?"

Hermione's eyes were wild when she looked up at Professor McGonagall. "They recognized me as bespoke when I was twelve and then cast when I turned sixteen. The ceremony was ancient, and the magic was powerful. The words were beautiful, although I hope they were metaphorical. My virginity will be given to Lucius, and Draco took my first kiss. And they gave me fidelity and a first kiss in return. It was the most embarrassing, most confusing thing I have ever done in my life. I felt like a commodity!"

McGonagall made a sympathetic sound. "How did you know the ceremony was ancient?"

The young witch saw through her professor's ploy to distract her, but went along with it. "It reminded me of some of the ancient rites of the earliest magical people. I did some supplemental reading for _History of Magic_. Mostly it was liturgical, but its spells were arcane, and its view of women was both subjugated and reverent. Reminiscent of the first age of magic."

"That would make sense; the House of Malfoy is one of the most ancient wizarding Houses. And the magic - you said it was powerful?"

"Umm, yes, it felt that way. The Headmaster didn't utter any of the spells aloud, but the wand-work was extraordinarily intricate. And then there's this." She held her left hand aloft, baring the dragon marking to the professor.

Professor McGonagall reached out and took Hermione's arm in her hands, stroking the marking gently. "A handmark. Very old-fashioned. It will fade in time, but for now it marks you as a betrothed witch. It's lovely, dear. And fitting, don't you agree?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you bear one of their names on your skin."

A light of comprehension dawned in Hermione's eyes. "Draco - _dragon_. That's why he was so pleased with my necklace." Her hand went unconsciously to the charm and stroked it.

"Mmmm . . . that, and I think any wizard would be pleased to have his namesake resting on the bosom of his intended."

That brought a fresh blush to Hermione's face. _Oh, this is getting ridiculous. Is there such thing as blush-burn? I'm going to be permanently red!_ She hid her face in her hands.

Minerva McGonagall patted Hermione's knee. "The blushing will go away soon enough, my dear. Until that day, remember it's a sign of your virtue. It doesn't bother anyone but you. Now tell me about the words that were so beautiful."

The blush that had barely begun to fade burst forth again across the young witch's face. She glanced at the older witch beside her, and then gave in to the need to talk with someone about what had just happened.

"Well, the ceremony was done in three parts, with a question asked by Professor Dumbledore and then four replies given. They were alternately answered by Lucius and Draco."

"That doesn't sound so bad, Hermione! What are you fussing about?"

"It was the words themselves - they were beautiful, but in a sensual way. They were promises given about me and my care . . ."

"Let me guess - 'feed you, clothe you'?"

"Much more. They promised to bathe me in honor, wrap me in glory, and fill me with sons. They promised I would bear their mark on my breast, that they would feed and clothe me with their hands, that I would know the depths of their heart, and that my pleasure would be theirs."

McGonagall's breath had become heavier, and her eyes glazed, as Hermione spouted off the liturgical responses of the ceremony. "Good Merlin, girl. We need a drink."

As she summoned two glasses and a decanter she continued, "You young people will be the death of me. Between you and Harry . . ."

But Professor-!"

"I meant it when I asked you to call me by my given name. We're no longer merely teacher and student. Hermione, you have become like a . . . a niece to me. I would never assume to be your mother, but _aunt_ I can manage. You will call me Minerva, and I will pour us a drink." She conjured a decanter of firewhiskey and two glasses from the sideboard and poured a small amount into each one. The first she tipped back and swallowed in one gulp without a wince, and the other she held out to Hermione.

"Oh, no thank you, Pro- err, Minerva. Draco says I'm not the firewhiskey sort."

Minerva McGonagall smiled like a cat that has just cornered a mouse. "Oh, _Draco_ says so, does he?"

"Yes, at the party he gave me champagne instead." Hermione smiled self-consciously. "He said it's been a side-job of his for years, keeping me out of trouble."

"And this is the same Draco who just took your first kiss and gave you his, from whom you ran like a first year all the way here?"

Hermione's eyes cleared, and her mouth dropped open. "Oh."

"Yes, indeed. Oh. Did you even bother with a chaperone?"

"Oh. _Oh no. _Am I in terrible trouble?"

"Mmmm. It'll slide. So aside from the fact that they lit a fire in your belly and caused you to squirm uncomfortably while they talked about pleasing you, and marking you, and making babies with you, what was so terrible about the meeting?"

"Well, when you put it that way - nothing. Although Lucius did sit me on his knee for our conversation. I wasn't quite sure what to do . . . but he was very kind, and terribly patient . . . and Draco noticed I was wearing his favorite shade of green again . . .and he kissed me, and my knees went weak."

"Aha. You had a good time, didn't you, up until you didn't know what to do?"

"Minerva, why couldn't you have _told_ me what to expect the second half?! If only I had _known_!"

"You weren't supposed to know, dear. Your first kiss was supposed to be spontaneous, at least for you. It was supposed to make you weak in the knees! If you'd known what was coming, you'd have been a wreck, and probably wouldn't have even remembered the kiss."

She sighed. Hermione's memory of the kiss had made her feel much, much better. Questions began popping into her head, and it seemed like a good time to ask them.

"When they said, 'she shall sleep in our bed,' did they mean one big bed? Or was it metaphorical?"

Minerva McGonagall sighed deeply. Honestly, she had been married far too long ago and for far too short a time for this new, sexually charged environment not to affect her.

"I'll have some dinner sent here for you, and after that you're going straight to your room for the rest of the night, young lady."

The professor herself went to bed early that night, weary to the bone. It was time for more help.


	9. Chapter 9

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 9 - Monday Morning

Which is why, when a frantic Hermione showed up at her door before sunrise with a new summons for a one o'clock visit, Minerva McGonagall sent one of her own to Astoria Greengrass, inviting her to breakfast.

Hermione showered, tamed her curls, put on a bit of make-up, and otherwise prepared herself for the afternoon visit. Not wanting Ginny to show her up again, Hermione had chosen several outfits from which to choose when Ginny arrived. None were up to the redhead's standards.

"No, you're going to wear your uniform. Emphasis on the form," decided Ginny.

"Nothing figure-baring!" Hermione reminded her, "Or above the knee, or with too low of a décolletage, or . . ."

"I _do_ know what I'm doing. Now shut it!" Ginny's face took on a look of intense concentration, and she began transfiguring Hermione's school clothes. When she was done, Hermione found herself in front of the mirror, staring at herself in amazement once again. For the first time, her grey pleated skirt hung gracefully; it was modest but showed the length of her slim legs. Her sweater followed her curves without looking thinly spread, and its V-neck dropped to show a hint of her small, round breasts. The necklace with its dragon charm hung perfectly framed. Hermione's hair was casually pulled up and away from her face.

"Now off you go. You can thank me later by learning to do this yourself. Soon. I mean, what are you, five? No hugs! Go on!"

Despite her harsh words, Ginny was grinning as Hermione ran down to find her chaperone.

Harry dropped her at Dumbledore's office in his typical, good-natured way. Hermione gave him the hug Ginny had denied her, and impulsively blurted, "Now, go and do something nice and naughty to Ginny. I'll ask Minerva to bring me to class. See you at lunch!"

Hermione entered the Headmaster's office and paused when she saw Astoria Greengrass. She was an intimidating witch. Besides being beautiful and poised, her demeanor was reserved. She was a year younger and in Ravenclaw, and therefore removed from Hermione's social circle. The two certainly weren't friends, and they had never talked.

Minerva did her best to start conversation. "Oh, my dear! Please come and have something to eat. It seems that Astoria is also glad to have a peer to talk with about her upcoming nuptials."

Astoria nodded to Hermione, adding, "It's true. We are the only two witches to receive stakes this year. I've often wished I wasn't the only one."

Hermione asked, "How long have you been betrothed?"

"My ceremony was the same day as yours, only it was held at my family's estate. However, I waited a while until I accepted it – it was presented to me last summer."

"That sounds just a bit more reasonable! I'd never heard of a stake, and when the Headmaster asked me if I accepted it, I said 'yes' like a complete idiot because I thought he wanted me to hold it for him!"

Astoria grinned, and her reserve seemed to melt a little. "Yes, you did do things backwards. What happened then?"

"I panicked, ran out, talked with Minerva and found out I had legally bound myself to two wizards whom I'd never really met. Then I panicked again for a good bit."

"And then you went to the Slytherin party," offered Astoria knowingly, "I saw you there. You and Draco were off in your own world the entire time. You didn't look panicked that evening."

Hermione blushed as she remembered that night. "It was like a perfect first date."

"Only you'd already engaged yourself to him!"

"And his father, too!"

The two girls laughed together, and the ice was officially broken.

Astoria said in a confidential tone, "You're a very lucky witch, you know."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her," muttered Minerva McGonagall.

"What do you mean?"

"Lucius is a _very_ attractive man, and so is his son. I'm not complaining about my future husbands in the least, mind you, but _Circe, mother of magic_ did you score with the Malfoys! I'll bet every witch in England will cry when they find their favorite bachelors are off the market."

Hermione's mind was assailed with the memory of her first kiss from Draco, and she blushed.

"Oh, you're a blusher! I'll bet they love that. Well, not to worry – you won't be for long. I'm sure by next week they'll be teaching you all kinds of wicked things and you won't even bat an eyelash."

Hermione was shocked. What had happened to the reserved witch she'd met upon arriving at this breakfast? Astoria noticed her expression, and made an apologetic face. "I'm sorry if that was too forward. I feel comfortable with you, and went too far."

Now Hermione felt badly. "No! Please, it's so nice to have someone to speak with about all of this. I don't mind your teasing at all."

"You don't have any sisters, do you?"

"I'm an only child. And my parents are no longer living."

"That makes sense. I'm used to talking with Daphne, my older sister, about everything. She married Blaise Zabini last fall, and so I've heard more than my share of what happens behind newlywed bedroom doors. Oh, Hermione! You must have so many questions! Please let me help, if I can."

Hermione wasted no time, and asked the first question to pop into her head. "Okay, were the acceptance vows literal or figurative? Because they were beautiful, but potentially troubling."

"I think each ceremony is different. Your wizards probably used their family's traditional vows. Can you remember anything specific that you wondered about?"

_I can think of several very specific things._ "I'll just start at the beginning and you can start translating."

Hermione recited the eight lines of the vows without commentary. The blonde witch's mouth dropped open. Minerva summoned a decanter of firewhiskey and added a few drops to her coffee. The sound of heavy breathing was quite distinct.

Astoria tried to collect herself, but she had clearly been affected by the Malfoy's choice of vows. "Oh, _wow_ . . ."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began again. "Sweet Merlin_, _Hermione. That's . . . _wow_."

Hermione took the opportunity to put the conversation back on track. "So do you see where I might be concerned about whether or not these are literal?"

Astoria and the professor traded glances. Minerva murmured, "She has no idea."

"I'm quite sure most of it is literal."

At the curly-haired witch's cry of panic, her new friend hastened to reassure her. "There's nothing alarming about these vows. Hermione, listen to me! These are some of the oldest binding vows known to exist. I know about them because Blaise gave Daphne a book of erotic poetry as a wedding gift, and there was a chapter filled with old binding vows. Yours were in there. I think they're really hot."

"Yes, yes. They're 'hot'! Look, Astoria – I'm not a complete idiot about sex. I know the basic mechanics, although it's not a subject on which I've wasted a lot of time. I understand the human physiological response to sexual stimulus. What I _don't_ know is how to think of sex as it relates to _me_. It's not something I've ever thought about," she huffed.

"Let's walk through it as a lesson in pureblood tradition, shall we? It's easy to forget you don't know any of this – you certainly have a reputation for knowing everything else. Okay, first of all, there's the part about your dwelling. That's obvious and not scary at all – you'll be brought to Malfoy Manor to live. You'll love it – it's a beautiful estate. I'm sure I'll come to visit you often there, as the Malfoys and Notts have been close for generations."

Hermione sat expectantly, and so Astoria continued, "Your wizards promise to bathe you in glory. This is probably metaphorical, but let's not rule out a more literal interpretation! As I'm promised to be married, it might not be appropriate for me to say this, but the thought of sharing a tub with those two men gets my knickers wet."

_We'll be married, and married people do those kinds of things_. Hermione felt she had rationalized that quite well. She couldn't help but notice that Minerva's expression was the same heated one she'd had when Molly had been describing Harry's visit with his girls. _My favorite professor is enjoying this_.

So was Astoria. She had a similar look on her face as she went on, "Your wizards are going to spend a great deal of time making babies with you. Gaaah . . . sorry, moving on . . . You'll always sit between them, which is traditional for a house wife, and obviously you'll sleep with them. I've heard that long ago, there was a house bed, which was shared by all the spouses, but I don't know if that's still done. I could ask Theo . . . anyway, if this is the vow that was used, you'll be marked magically by your wizards as proof of their ownership—"

"I belong to no one but myself!" Hermione was outraged.

"When you accepted, you gave yourself to the House of Malfoy and were received much like a spoil of war. Do you not understand the significance of the stake? The Malfoy wizards offered their lives to Dumbledore, in service to his cause, in exchange for the right to pursue your hand. Dumbledore accepted the offer, which means he considered their alliance to be of the same worth as your life."

"You're saying the Headmaster used me as payment in a debt."

"No, not at all. He gave you to his champions as a great prize."

"But I had a right to accept or refuse!"

"They are as bespoke for you as you are for them. I have no doubt that any refusal would have been temporary. Think of the few times you've met Draco. Weren't you drawn to his looks, captivated by his manner? He made your heart race, I'll bet. And Lucius – did he leave you breathless?"

"How could you know that?"

"That's how I feel about the Nott wizards. They make me weak in the knees and ready to do whatever they want. I belong with them, and they own me. Oh, and don't forget the last line – about your pleasure being theirs, too! Give your courtship a few days – when they've got you moaning with pleasure and begging for—"

Hermione's hand flew up in the universal gesture for _STOP!_

Astoria changed tactics. "—Hermione, let me finish! It's not a bad thing! First of all, when I used the term _ownership_, I just meant that your wizards are going to feel very possessive towards you. Your handmark will fade in time, and obviously they want to give you something a little more permanent than a ring. Something that will scream _taken by _us. They don't legally own you, of course. That would be weird."

"Yes, Astoria, _that's_ the weird part." _Do Ravenclaws even understand sarcasm?_

"Secondly, your wizards will take care of you as they would any other priceless treasure . . ."

Finally Astoria paused for breath, and Hermione interrupted, "But I'm not a _thing_!"

"Hermione, you seem to be upset by the oddest parts: lots of sex, being cared for, having someone go to war for you, even more physical pleasure, being highly valued . . . I really don't understand."

"Well when you say it like that it all sounds very reasonable!"

"So we do agree! I'm so glad you're coming to see things in the right light. We house wives must stick together."

Hermione was confused. Either Astoria had just cleverly won the argument or she had proven to be as loony as Luna. Whichever was the case, she had given the curly-headed witch much to think about.

Minerva's composure had been restored now that the conversation had veered from anything steamy. "Well, I think you've been given enough to think about for one day, my dear. Shall we meet again tomorrow morning?"

She was right – Hermione had enough to keep her mind spinning for the next twenty-four hours. It was almost time for class, so the three left the office together. Astoria parted with them at the bottom of the stairs, giving Hermione a quick hug and promising to be at breakfast the next day.

Her altered uniform, even partially hidden her robes, caused a stir among her peers. _Have I really dressed that badly all these years?_ The [d1] professor had walked her to her first class, Ancient Runes, which she had with Harry and Luna. She took her seat beside Luna.

"Good morning, Lu - did I miss anything interesting at breakfast?"

Luna looked up from the book she was reading with a sweet smile. "'Lo, 'Mione! Well, we had those yummy scones you like so much, and Ron was a complete arse, and Slytherin lost 20 points because Draco Malfoy hexed him."

"I don't want to know."

"Okay. Have you noticed how different Draco's been acting lately? I wonder if he's got narleywickets . . ."

Hermione answered her in a whisper. "I haven't really seen much of him, except at the party and then the ceremony yesterday. What's he been doing?"

"Oh, you know. Glaring at any boy he catches looking at you, daydreaming in History of Magic, hexing Ron - he can't possibly like you any more than he did before you accepted his stake, and he knows you're his witch now, so I really think it might be a case of narleywickets."

"What did Ron do at breakfast, Luna?"

"The same things Ron always does when you're not around. You know."

"Actually, since I'm not around, I don't."

"Oh. Well, that's true. Hmmmm . . . he wondered where you were, and we said you were in a meeting with Professor McGonagall, and he got mad. He said that when he was ready to settle down he'd see to it that you knew your place."

"_What?!"_

Luna continued in her usual dreamy tone as if Hermione hadn't interrupted furiously. "And that when he made you his, he'd see to it that your time was better spent."

Hermione controlled her anger as best she could, but her hands clenched in white-knuckled fists, and she bit clean through her lip. The taste of blood calmed her somewhat. _How dare he? How dare he think I would wait for him to . . . to 'settle down'?!_ Except that, in her heart Hermione knew she had been prepared to do just that until very recently. _Draco hexed Ron for saying those things. He looks out for me. _She didn't hear a word of the excellent runes lesson that day.

Herbology was next. Draco was in this class, but his workstation was at the far end of the greenhouse. Today there was no actual work to do, but a quiz to take instead. Hermione flew through hers and then went back to triple check her answers. She was still done well before anyone around her. She handed her papers to Professor Sprout and was walking back to her station just as Draco got up to hand his in. Their eyes met, and Draco smiled and then ducked his head. Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she kept her eyes on him to see if he would look up again. He caught her gaze again just as a wayward thought crossed her mind. _He's going to bathe me when we're married. _Realizing what she had been thinking at that moment, she flushed dark red. She fled back to her spot and kept her eyes trained downward the rest of the class.

* * *

[d1]Yes.


	10. Chapter 10

**As promised, the story has been nitpicked to here. I found my elusive possessive pronoun, deleted an extra space, AND added some more conversation in Ch9. You might want to re-read it, because it answers some questions (I typed that in a sing-song voice)! **

**Also, I thought some of you might like to keep track of our two-week time frame for the story, and so I added a note at the top of each chapter (I have a calendar beside my laptop so I don't over-pace the storyline).**

** Last but not least, I changed Ron's Ch1 party snog to Lisa Turpin, because poor Lisa never gets any FF action. She might be just desperate enough to not turn down Ron Weasley. **

**So - go back and read Ch9 if you haven't already.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 10

Lunch was weirdly nice. Ron was still in the infirmary, allowing Hermione to talk freely with Harry and his girls. She hadn't seen much of the redheaded wizard lately, and so she hadn't had a chance to tell him of her betrothal. Hermione felt awkward keeping it from Ron, and yet uncomfortable at the idea of sharing this news with him. It just didn't seem to be any of his business in light of all the information she'd learned from Molly and Luna. He'd find out soon enough.

Her friends agreed. Ginny was even vehement about it. She informed Hermione that traditionally it was the witch's choice to publicize the engagement or not, and so she should take advantage of the time to adjust.

"Won't it be announced by the Ministry, or something?"

"The wedding will be the official news-breaking. Until then, it's up to you. My mum says she'd prefer for Ron to find out later, anyways, so he doesn't make any more of a fool of himself. I think she's looking forward to setting the rest of the boys on him."

Hermione made a mental note of several questions she suddenly had for Ginny. _Maybe I can convince her to give Harry a break later this evening._

Ron being gone meant that Harry took full advantage of - well, Ron's sister. And Luna. Normally, Ginny's older brother would have put a slight damper on their antics, and in his absence the three were putting on quite a show. Luna sat on the table in front of him with her legs hooked on his shoulders, letting him suck cream pudding off her fingers. Ginny leaned over Luna's left leg, licking Harry's lips clean with each mouthful, and her hand was moving inside his unzipped trousers. Harry's hands were under Luna's robe, and it was obvious by her writhing that he was playing with her nipples. Hermione had seen worse, but this was the first time it affected her. She felt a tugging sensation deep in her gut and squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

She tried to find somewhere - anywhere - else to look and instantly found herself locked in Draco's gaze from the Slytherin table, which was behind the backs of her friends. He seemed to sense her plight, because he blushed deeply but held her eyes. His lips began curving into a beautiful smirk, and Hermione wondered what it would feel like to finger-feed Draco pudding. It was her turn to blush. How much time passed while they smiled and gazed at each other? Neither ate a bite of their meals, and what finally broke their shared reverie were the soft choking sounds coming from Harry. Hermione looked at her friend in concern, only to realize too late that Ginny had accomplished her goal. The redhead sank to her knees under the table just as the Headmaster dismissed the students from the great hall.

Hermione was at a loss for a few moments. Harry was obviously unable to perform his duties as chaperone at the moment, and she needed to get to Dumbledore's office for the visit with the Malfoy wizards. Draco caught her attention and beckoned her to come closer.

"Miss Granger, I think your 'brother' is indisposed. Perhaps we should wait for the Headmaster and walk with him."

"Good idea. I'm so sorry about that - I don't understand why someone doesn't _do something_ about his antics."

"You've no need to apologize for him. He's a war hero; the rules are different for him. He'll be able to do whatever he wants with his women wherever he wants to do it for the rest of his life."

"Ugh. And here I was hoping the real world would curb his public behavior."

Draco blushed, looked at his feet, and smirked again. Hermione wondered what he was thinking about.

Professor Dumbledore had seemed to anticipate their need. He walked through the crowds of students toward them. "Aah! Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy! Excellent - we are due in my office, it seems. Will you suffer my company on the way?"

It occurred to the young witch in that moment just how true Draco's words must be, because the Headmaster of the prestigious Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry hadn't batted an eyelash at the sight of a post-coital Harry Potter, still openly fondling Luna Lovegood's breasts while Ginny Weasley cleaned him up with her tongue under the table. She shook off the image. Some things really were best left ignored.

The three arrived at the appointed meeting place minutes later. Lucius was waiting at the door, leaning against the wall and swinging his walking stick. He bowed his head in silent greeting to them in a general way as the Headmaster opened the door.

There was a fire roaring in the grate, and the room was exceedingly warm. Draco and Hermione immediately shrugged off their robes.

Formal greetings were exchanged, Hermione's hand was duly kissed by each of her wizards, and she was whisked away to the chair in the alcove by Lucius. Once again, he sat down and drew her onto his knee. As they had the day before, his large, warm hands settled around her waist. His thumb brushed back and forth against the soft knit of her sweater-clad stomach.

"It's good to see your face again, lady. The last I saw of you was your hair streaming behind as you fled this place." His eyes were smiling at her, but his mouth remained straight. _That look must be hereditary._

Hermione blushed and bit her lip. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. There's no excuse for my behavior yesterday. I won't run from my own discomfort again. Did I offend you?"

Lucius raised his eyebrows and barely contained a smile. "Yes, I am afraid the ancient and noble House of Malfoy has suffered a great blow; one that can only be repaired by a kiss from the offending lady." He tapped his cheek and twinkled at her.

_He can't be serious - but great and mighty Merlin, if I don't do it I'll offend him for sure. And how is it both of these wizards seem to know that twinkling is my Achilles' heel? _Hermione leaned in cautiously and brushed her lips against his cheek. Her brain catalogued the sensory input for later perusal.

As she began to draw away, Lucius brought one of his hands up to the middle of her back and the other to her thighs. He drew her further into his lap and tucked her body against his chest, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. Now she found herself sitting across his lap like a young child might be held. Lucius' arms wrapped around her loosely, and he spoke into the hair on the top of her head. "Now, my prize, tell me about your time away from me."

In this position, Hermione realized, there was no eye contact and therefore much less tension on her part. Yesterday, after the initial awkwardness, it hadn't been difficult talk with Lucius. Now it was downright enjoyable. _And why do I suddenly like being called a 'prize'? _She found herself telling him about running to the professor's chambers, and about how terrible she felt when she realized she'd broken a rule. She told him about meeting Astoria, and of seeing Draco in Herbology. She even told him about the awful things Ron had said and Draco's subsequent hexing of him.

Today no bell rang while she spoke, and so it was quite a few minutes later that she realized she'd been talking for far too long. And that she found her new niche in Lucius' arms quite comfortable. _Good heavens, how long have I been playing with the button of his jacket?_

Hermione raised her head slightly, catching his eye. "How rude of me to go on like that! Will you please talk for a while, now?" Then she hid back down against his shoulder, her nose buried into the fabric of his beautiful robes. _He smells divine. Almost as good as the war-stake. He'll be my husband soon._

Lucius spoke into her hair at length, telling her of his recent comings and goings. Since she knew nothing about him or his life, she interrupted from time to time with a question. He seemed to enjoy this, and they went on like this for a long, long time. Eventually, though, the sound of the bell rang out from somewhere in the office. Lucius sighed and helped her to sit upright again.

"I find myself looking forward to our next visit already. Perhaps it can be sooner that I had originally planned."

Hermione smiled at him, relieved that their time together had been so . . . nice. She nodded her head in agreement, and, on impulse, kissed his cheek again. His hands tightened around her waist for a moment, and then he helped her to her feet. They stood together for a moment, and the only sound was that of the Headmaster's quill scratching across the parchment on his desk.

"I'm sure someone is growing impatient with my dallying. Until next time, lady." Lucius kissed her hand and excused himself from the room. Hermione was confused until Professor Dumbledore explained that the senior Mr. Malfoy would come and go from these visits according to the demands of his schedule.

Draco must have left at some point, because he reentered just as Lucius exited the door. He was carrying a tray laden with food and a pitcher of what could only be pumpkin juice. Hermione's stomach rumbled loudly. He grinned, and gestured with his head toward a table, which had been set up in front of the fireplace. Together they transferred everything from the tray to the table, and sat down to the small feast.

"Oh, this is _perfect_! Thank you, D- Mr. Malfoy. How did you know?" She had almost used his first name, but something had stopped her.

He gave her one of those smiles that completely lit up his eyes but didn't quite reach his mouth. "Well, you didn't actually eat anything at lunch, Miss Granger."

The memory of the lunch hour came back to her, and she was filled with a burst of giddy happiness. _He likes me very much, and I like him as well. He's very thoughtful._

Draco suddenly seemed to remember the Headmaster, who was still seated at his desk. "Won't you join us, sir?"

Dumbledore looked up and twinkled at the two of them. "Alas, as I had no one to distract me from my own lunch, I find myself stuffed almost uncomfortably. I thank you for your kindness, though."

Some time later, they finished and left the table for the semi-privacy of the alcove. Draco looked at the chair speculatively, and for a brief moment Hermione pictured herself sitting on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. The mental image morphed to something far less innocent, and in it his hands were toying with her breasts while she lapped pudding from the corner of his mouth. _Sweet Circe, I cannot believe I just thought that._

Her face flaming, she couldn't bring herself to look at the wizard beside her. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, and when she finally glanced up his face was as red as hers. _What could he be thinking that's as embarrassing as that? _She gave herself a mental shake and proceeded to help them both out of this difficulty by transfiguring the chair into a small couch. It could have been a bit larger but the alcove was small and she was still a bit rattled.

In the relief of the moment, Draco took her by the hand and pulled her to the new seating arrangement. It was a cozy fit. As was her custom, Hermione automatically curled up on the couch with her knees bent. In this position she faced Draco directly. Her stockinged knees brushed against the fabric of his trousers.

She waited for him to speak, but he seemed to be at a loss. She watched him swallow once, then twice. Nothing. She was struck with the realization that he was nervous, and this caused her to blurt out, "I kissed your father. On the cheek. Because I was so sorry to have run out on your both yesterday. Shall I kiss you, too?" _Why is my mouth moving without help from my brain? _

That offer was enough to bring Draco to life. He snapped his eyes to hers and nodded without hesitation. "Yes, please."

"Where would you like me to kiss you?" _Merciful Merlin, take pity on me and seal my mouth shut. _Her nerves propelled her forward too quickly, and she fell against Draco, her mouth landing in the corner of his mouth. She remembered that she had kissed Lucius twice, and it seemed only fair to do the same to Draco, and so she kissed him again. He moved his head at the same moment, and caught her lips with his. It was a short, sweet kiss, but when they broke apart they were both short of breath.

She stayed where she was for a moment, her supporting hand leaning against the couch arm on the far side of Draco. The position caused her chest to press up against his. He grasped her by the shoulders and moved her back to her original seating. Draco had a wild look in his eye as he tried to gently put distance between them.

Clearly Draco recognized the safety in conversation at this point, because it was his turn to blurt.

"He could be my brother, you know."

"What?"

"Abraxas could just as easily be my father."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"Abraxas was Lucius' father. Lucius was born to Calpurnia, and I to Narcissa. But Narcissa was bedded by both of them before I was conceived."

"How is fatherhood determined for legal purposes?"

"I'm a son of the House of Malfoy legally. Still, people assume he's my father. It's more believable, because of our age difference. Abraxas died before I was born, and Narcissa shortly after. Lucius raised me as a son, but I have always looked on him as a brother. It's easier to go along with the misconception. And, you know . . ."

"Draco, I know it's hard to remember this, but as a Muggle-born, I don't know _anything_. Please, no matter what we're talking about, try to talk to me as though I'm an idiot."

He flashed her a beautiful smirk at her and continued.

"Well, what do you know about the succession of house wives?"

"Umm. Nothing at all. Although it occurs to me that your family hasn't had one in, what - nineteen years? Why the long wait?"

"If he had managed to find a bespoke witch earlier, I would have been too young to wed. The marriage laws of are quite firm that a witch must be sixteen to be wed, and a wizard must be eighteen. That would have left Lucius in a common marriage until I came of age. And then I would have been marrying a witch at least sixteen years my senior. His instinct told him to wait."

"If he had remarried, what then?"

"Any child born to that marriage would be in violation of the Malfoy covenant. I would have been left as the last of my House, which is a risk no wizard from a family such as ours wishes to take."

"So he waited nineteen years to remarry? Surely he had relationships with other women in the meantime."

Draco looked as though he was shocked but trying to hide it. "The traditions of the ancient houses are quite clear on this point. Wizards are to remain faithful to the hope of their bespoke witch. Then they are to help maintain the virtue of their witch until they are wed. If she is lost, everything reverts back to the first part - remaining faithful to the hope."

Hermione let out a sound of quiet amazement. _So much for them being sex addicts and perverts. They're the purest men possible_. _How is it that my questions multiply faster than they're answered?_

"Wait - you said a witch had to be sixteen, and a wizard eighteen. If that's the case, why did you wait until now to redeem the stake?"

She turned her puzzled face to Draco to find him looking at her thoughtfully. "Would you have been ready?"

Hermione needed more of an explanation, and Draco didn't disappoint. "Would you have left the war? Left school? Would you have been ready to accept the stake? Believe me, if you had been, we would have redeemed it on my eighteenth birthday."

_If Draco and Lucius had set this in motion last year, I would have laughed in their faces and run for my life. I'd still be in hiding. And he just admitted that he's wanted to marry me for at least a year._

He was still talking, though. "And no one should ever compel anyone else to give up what they love out of selfish desire. You're the most brilliant witch of our time, and you belong here. You deserve to finish your coursework and graduate with every honor, and then you deserve to go on to do what you were meant to do after that. It's been my hope that perhaps we can find a way to work together. We're well-suited for it."

His words made Hermione turn to goo inside. She was briefly in danger of melting off the couch and all over the floor. _He thinks I'm brilliant. He wants us to do great things together. I think I might want that, too. This man owns me._

The topic, while unexpected, had set them on the course to relaxed conversation. Any hesitation to talk about the courtship and impending wedding was gone. It was a relief for Hermione especially, because now she had yet another person who could help answer her questions.

"Tell me something else I don't know."

"Lucius is smitten with you."

"Oh."

"And I have a hard time waiting for my turn with you during these visits."

She knew she was blushing, and bit her lip. Sometimes a little pain stopped the rush of blood to her head. "Ummm, we don't have to wait for the visits to see each other . . ."

Draco gave one of his patent almost-smiles. "Do you think you could get Potter to tag along with us to the library to study later?"

"Yes - I have some reading that I need to get done for Arithmancy before class tomorrow - Harry said he'd take me there after dinner! You could . . . meet us there?"

"I'll be there."

Something occurred to Hermione. "Only . . ."

"What is it?" Draco looked like he was preparing to be disappointed.

"I sort of promised Harry he could bring the girls. And you know what that means . . ."

"I'm sure we can distract ourselves."

Professor Dumbledore needed to speak with her at the end of the visit, and so she said good-bye to Draco at the door. She returned to the Headmaster's desk and was surprised when he handed her a small velvet box.

"I have approved this gift from the House of Malfoy on your behalf, my dear. Go on, you may open it."

Hermione's hands trembled slightly as she pried up the lid of the box. She gasped when she saw the beautiful hair comb. It was intricately wrought of silver and there were several green gems set in it.

"Oh. It's lovely. Who is it from?"" She looked up to see the Headmaster smiling at her.

"The gift was given in the name of the House, but Lucius delivered it to me this morning."

"Shall I thank him, or both of them? Or is that something I need to relay through you?"

"Thank them by wearing it. Now let us get you to class! Enough of your academic time has been stolen for today."

They left the office together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Happy Monday! Here is the next installment as promised. Thank you for the lovely notes! Here are a few replies:**

**Lanetk, you're right - things don't get updated on Granger Enchanted/Malfoy Manor as often. That's because they screen every story and chapter! They want beta'd, high-quality entries. Therefore, things take longer. Here on FF, I can upload my chapters directly without validation.**

**Saori165, I also particularly don't like Ron. I'd love to . . . nevermind. **

**firefly81, I never intended to write Harry this way (Harry has always struck me as a rather asexual character), but he had other plans. **giggles****

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 11 - Monday evening

Hermione floated on a cloud all afternoon, hardly hearing a thing in the rest of her classes. Every time she thought about the study date after dinner, she smiled to herself, and everyone around her noticed her happy mood. In between classes, she stopped in the loo and adjusted the sleeves of her robe with a Glamour charm. No one had noticed the mark on her hand yet, and she wanted to keep it that way. _At least for now._

"What's got into you, 'Mione?" Asked Ron when they met in passing in the courtyard. She was on her way to Advanced Charms, and he to a newly added level of Care of Magical Creatures. _Honestly, he's never been much of a student, but couldn't he try just a bit harder?_ She felt guilty for having thought it immediately then wrapped both hands even more tightly in the long sleeves of her robes. She looked about for Harry, who had been walking a few steps in front of her.

"What do you mean, Weasley?" She had been skirting the formal address thing with Ron since the rules had been enacted. She usually tried for a sarcastic or jovial tone of voice, in the hopes that he'd think she was clowning about. It didn't seem like he'd even noticed, fortunately. _Idiot_.

"You've got a ridiculous smile plastered on your face - what, did you score extra homework in one of your advanced classes?" He laughed at his own joke.

"Something like that. Got to go." She hurried on her way, left hand buried in her schoolbag.

"You should really wear robes that're actually your size," he hollered at her retreating form, "you look ridiculous in those!"

His words hit her, making her slow her gait, but after a moment she brushed it off and kept walking. He was just being stupid . . .

The afternoon flew by, and dinner was blessedly unremarkable. She avoided Draco's gaze for the most part, not wanting to share her happiness with Ron. Ron was sitting across from her with his back to the Slytherin table in his usual spot, and he was stuffing his face happily. Hermione kept her eyes on her plate until the students were dismissed, at which point, she grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him from the Great Hall. She heard Ron grumbling something about how close she and Harry had become, and ignored it. _No time. No time! I need to brush my teeth - oh, and my hair! Can't forget to bring along that parchment of Arithmancy notes I have on my desk, too . . ._

True to his word, Harry escorted Hermione to the library not long after. Ginny and Luna had promised him that that they would catch up soon. The two friends found a table in a quiet nook and set out their paper and books. Hermione found herself glancing repeatedly towards the opening to their area until Harry called her out on it.

"He'll be here, 'Mione. He's either brushing his teeth or rubbing one out in the shower-"

"Harry James Potter, stop now. Keep your big mouth shut, or I will shut it for you." She glared at him fiercely, and he tried unsuccessfully to smother his grin.

At that moment, Draco found them. She couldn't help but notice his pale blond hair hung damp around his face, and Harry's words replayed in her head. She blushed. _He could have taken a shower because that's what he usually does after dinner. Not everyone's as randy as the 'war hero'._

Draco looked relaxed. He had a pleasant smile on his face as he dropped into the chair beside Hermione, and he plucked her sleeve playfully after setting his school bag on the table. Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as he and Harry exchanged pleasantries. Harry quickly added a raised eyebrow and crude gesture at the end, and Draco flushed to the roots of his hair. She slid her eyes back to the paper in front of her. _Or, Harry could be right. Does Draco think about me like that? Of course he must – he wants to marry me._

Hermione used all the willpower she possessed to switch her thoughts to a different track. Soon she was happily immersed in a complex arithmancy equation and unaware of everything around her. It wasn't until a long time later that her surroundings slowly re-entered her consciousness. Draco was working at her side, and Harry and his girls were actually each in a separate chair _studying_. She pushed her chair back and stood, and Draco looked up questioningly.

"I just need to find another source to cite for this essay, I'll be right back," she whispered to him.

"I need to stretch my legs, I'll help if you like," he countered. Harry caught her attention, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows.

_'Knock it off,'_ she mouthed at him. Still, her stomach fluttered. Without needing to communicate, the two walked off in the direction of the books needed. Hermione thought how nice it was that Draco knew the library as well as she, and that she would be spending her life with someone so well paired to her. _Bespoke_. The term suddenly had a bit of context.

They found the arithmancy section and set to work, only speaking to point out a possible text or author. Finally, Hermione found exactly what she had been looking for. She turned to leave, but Draco took her hand in his and held her back. She turned, questioningly.

"What's the rush, Miss Granger?" He asked her with a serious face.

"Ummm . . ." _Oh_. _He wants to spend time with me without the others. Alone. "_Is . . . is this okay? I don't want to break a rule . . ."

"Actually," he was pulling her into the corner of the alchemy section, "we have a chaperone, and he is technically in the same room as us. As long as I follow the rules set for me, we'll be fine."

He hadn't dropped her hand, and Hermione gave his a gentle squeeze. Then her curiosity flared up. "Will you tell me your rules? You said you have more than I do - why is that?"

Draco swallowed with difficulty and blushed, then said, "That's because they're quite specific. I'd rather not . . . please don't . . ."

Hermione felt terrible immediately. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I've made you uncomfortable! I understand too well how that feels. Let's talk about something else. The silver comb you gave me today is beautiful. I'll wear it tomorrow."

That was enough to ease the awkwardness. They must have talked for half an hour, all the while standing close and leaning into each other's space. Draco's thumb was rubbing circles into the back of her hand, and Hermione was having a hard time concentrating on anything else at the moment. They were still drifting together slowly, and now Draco's forehead was touching hers. Their heights were different enough that as he had leaned in, she had arched her back to accommodate him. Her free hand took hold of his shoulder for support, and he wrapped an arm around her. The result was that Hermione's torso was nearly flush with Draco's, and the hands they still held were crushed to Hermione's chest.

His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be breathing her in. He whispered, "Do you like to dance?"

"Yes, but I'm not very good at it."

"Will you dance with me at our wedding?"

The way he said_ our wedding _sent a tiny, pleasant chill through her body, and she shivered slightly as she whispered again, "Yes."

"I remember how you danced at the Yule Ball. And at the Slytherin party. It will be nice to finally be the one dancing with you." His lips brushed against the edge of her mouth as he whispered to her.

_I think I want you to kiss me. Please kiss me._ She whispered back, and it gave the illusion that they were kissing each other. "I'd like that, too."

He drew his forehead from hers and looked into her eyes. "I'd like to kiss you."

She tipped her chin a little higher in the air, encouraging him. "Yes, please," she echoed his words from earlier that day.

Just as their lips met, though, Harry interrupted. They stepped apart quickly and looked anywhere but at their intruding chaperone. "Sorry, you two, but Madame Pince is kicking me and the girls out. I explained about you, and she's giving us half an hour for your sake. We might have gone a bit too far . . ."

Hermione snorted indelicately. "A _bit too far_? _May have_? Oh, Haaarrry . . ." Her frustration leaked into her tone.

Draco tried to help the situation. "It's probably best - you still haven't finished your arithmancy essay."

There had been very few times in her life when Hermione had considered saying _to hell with it_ when in came to schoolwork. Up until now, they had all been related to divination and Sybil Trelawney. Right now she was sure that given a choice between finishing her paper and kissing Draco Malfoy, she would say to hell with the paper. And it was for arithmancy, her favorite subject! _That's only because he's such a good kisser. And says such romantic things. And-_ She shook herself out of the reverie.

"All right. We'd better get back to our seats."

The rest of the half-hour, she remained focused on her essay. She was, however, aware of each and every time Draco's arm brushed hers on the tabletop.

That night she dreamed that she sat on Lucius' knee while Draco kissed her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi Peeps! It's been a brisk -50 Fahrenheit here, so not much else to do but write and be thankful for no-school days. Thank you for the sweet notes! I burned them to keep warm ;)**

**Brightki, you crack me up! **

**Emmcat1908, if you think Harry is going to be slowed down permanently, heads up - he's not a quitter! ;)**

**MissMaryLiz, AlesiaG, Btterflykis69, Cheryl Grant, Cat130, spikeecat and bellabear24, and the youngest Gorgons: I love you all! Smooches to each of you.**

**Attention! It's going to be a slow burn for our sweet Hermione. Remember, it's a two-week courtship, and it's only Tuesday of the first week. Some days will have multiple chapters. It all makes sense to me because I'm looking at my calendar as I plot it out. I know you all want to get to the good stuff, but it needs to be (can I even say this with a straight face?) ****_realistic_****. So 'Patience, Iago!'**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 12 - Tuesday

When she woke the next morning, Hermione spent more than an adequate amount of time getting ready for the day. The idea that Draco, and possibly Lucius, would see her at some point caused her to ramp up her normal regimen. She had loosely knotted her hair up off her neck with the aid of the Malfoy's gift. The weight of the beautiful hair comb at the back of her head was a constant reminder of her evening with Draco. Now, as Harry walked her down to the Headmaster's office for her breakfast meeting, she felt prepared for anything the day might hold.

Minerva and Astoria were already seated at the table by the hearth, just as they had been yesterday. Today, however, Hermione needed no invitation. She sat down and filled her plate, and the three ate in comfortable silence for some minutes. Astoria was the first to talk.

"You know, Hermione, you're going to have a lot of people suddenly wanting to be your friend when this is announced. You should prepare yourself."

"Why would my marriage change my social standing?"

Minerva jumped in, "You'll be house wife to the closest thing English wizardry has to royalty. Have you never noticed the way Draco is treated like a prince? That extends beyond the walls of Hogwarts, my dear. Astoria is right, you should be prepared for a rush of attention."

At this point, there was a knock on the door, and Minerva went to answer it. Apparently she was needed somewhere urgently. "Girls, I must go see to this. Astoria, you are Hermione's chaperone in my absence. Albus is in his rooms, of course. Knock on the door if you need him."

After nodding at the professor, Hermione turned back to Astoria. "I'll be gone from here by the time I get married, and then I'll be with the . . . with my . . . with _them_. And if they're the ones who are so important, who's going to bother with me?"

"Hermione! Once the honeymoon is over, the Malfoys will be dragging you all over the magical world – they're going to want to show you off in every magical city that has a decent hotel. You'll meet the pureblood crowd, the business crowd, and anyone else who happens to frequent the same social spots. As the Malfoy wife, you'll be considered influential. Anyone with an interest in your family will see you as their way in."

"That's ridiculous. I don't want that! Let's talk about something else," she ordered in a panicky voice.

"Okay. Oh - I'll bet the sex will be _amazing_, Hermione! Can you just imagine Lucius in bed?" Astoria's eyes were gleaming as she spoke, and Hermione was so taken aback by the statement that she completely missed her friend's artful diversion.

Hermione had felt a stab of some new, unknown emotion at her new friend's interest in the Malfoys. It was brief but sharp, and felt almost like possessiveness. She tried her best to shake it. "Astoria! How can you even . . . isn't that a bit wrong, that you're thinking about sex with _my_ wizards? Why don't we talk about your wizards? I don't know the Notts, outside of Theo."

Astoria looked chastened. "Sorry, I know that must seem inappropriate. All right, then – my wizards. I'm betrothed to the three Notts – Theodore Sr., Theo, and Nicholas, who's a seventh year. I've known them most of my life, and was thrilled when I was given their stake. It's the most perfect fairytale ending."

She certainly looked enamored with the Notts. She continued, "I've always had the hugest crush on Theodore. As a child I followed him around for years at social functions, demanding to sit on his lap. He recognized me as bespoken quite early, and was always very kind. When I went off to school, I was put on the train with Theo and Nick and we fought the whole way to Hogwarts. We couldn't stand each other for the longest time! That changed when I turned sixteen, and shortly after that, they cast their stake."

"What was it like, before you recently accepted?"

"Honestly? I enjoyed it. The boys alternated between flirting and sulking, and Theodore wrote to me regularly. They never let me forget that they wanted me, and they did whatever necessary to keep others at bay. I knew I belonged with them; I just needed some time to grow up. Now I can't wait to be with them. That _doesn't_ mean I have forgotten the delectable Malfoy men! Now you tell _me_ something."

"Draco and I met to study in the library last night."

"Ooh, sounds cozy! I suppose your chaperone was there?"

"Yes, but mine's Harry, and he's the most depraved man in this castle."

"What, The Boy With His Hands Up Two Skirts is depraved?" Astoria giggled.

Hermione decided that it was only fair to tell the blonde witch more. She said, "Draco and I kissed at our visit yesterday afternoon, and he tried to kiss me again last night. I can't believe how amenable I am to the idea of being with him. It's like I rally all my logic, and then when I see him it all turns to mush."

"You'll feel that way about Lucius, too, as soon as you get to know him. It was meant to be. When I kissed Nick at the acceptance ceremony, I think the earth stopped turning for a few seconds. And last year, I could have kicked him in the you-know-whats."

"You're probably right."

"Probably? Hermione – that yummy, yummy wizard is going to spend the next week visiting you with the express purpose of breaking down your resistance. He'll murmur sweet nothings in that sexy drawl of his until your eyes will cross. He'll run his fingers through your hair, and up and down your back until you purr with pleasure. He'll set a trap to steal a kiss and you _will_ be caught in it."

Astoria's imagery was incendiary, and it felt as though a small flame had been lit inside her.

The meeting broke up shortly after that when Minerva returned from her task. She escorted Hermione to the doorway of her first class. The young witch paused to collect her thoughts and jumped when someone touched her elbow. Tugging away from the person, she spun around to face him or her. It was Draco.

"Sorry, but you didn't hear me address you."

"D- ummm, hi! What are you doing here?" She glanced around the halls and realized passing time must be almost over, as only a few students scurried past them. Then she leaned into the DADA room and caught the teacher's eye. He was new this term, and Hermione couldn't be bothered trying to remember his name. He knew far less about the subject than she, and as much as admitted this to her when they first met. Since she had passed her N.E.W.T. for this class two years ago and had taken it merely to practice her skills, it didn't seem much of an issue. Still, he was a teacher and might count as a chaperone . . .

The young wizard sitting at the teacher's desk immediately recognized her plight. He tried to look authoritative and held up three fingers. _The Headmaster must have told the faculty about me. Whew. Three minutes. That's actually quite generous - I wonder if anyone would notice if Draco kissed me . . ._ She physically shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Draco had been speaking, and she only caught the tail end. " . . . is that all right?"

She looked up into his face, and all the little things she had been cataloging about him came to mind. _He's so tall and handsome. His shoulders will be as broad as Lucius' once he fills out a bit. What lovely eyes he has - they're like the sea the way they change color. His skin is pale as milk; and his mouth - sweet Circe, his beautiful, beautiful mouth . . ._ _what is he saying? Am I drooling?_ She tried to focus on Draco's words, still watching his mouth.

"Are you okay?"

"I need to kiss you. I mean! What?!"

Draco looked up and down the hallway and into the classroom before pulling her to the side of the doorway. He took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers once, twice, three times. The little flame that Astoria had helped light inside her grew. Her hands reached his head and wove into his hair just as he was pulling away. He was grinning happily.

"I have to go. There's to be a visit at lunchtime. Have Harry bring you to the Headmaster's office."

Then he was gone, leaving Hermione in a state unfit for class. She took the remaining time to calm her breathing and center her thoughts. When she walked into DADA ninety seconds later, she looked her usual collected self, but her mind was far away in a library alcove alone with Draco Malfoy.

She managed to avoid getting hurt during the two-period class, although her dueling partner hit her full-on with a particularly well-aimed babbling curse. _Honestly, who uses that curse in self-defense?_ Their professor couldn't seem to get the counter-curse right, and since she was in no physical danger, sent her on her way with his apologies. Harry seemed to be wrapped in his thoughts when he met her at the door, and guided her to her visit without a word. She kept her incessant talking to a quiet mutter all the way to the Headmaster's office and hugged her 'brother' good-bye. _At least I don't have to listen to myself go on - my mouth seems content to run on its own. I wish Harry had paid attention long enough to help me - it's not as though he doesn't know how!_

Hermione took a deep breath at the door. One of the wizards present would know the counter-curse and quickly ease her plight. She entered, mind elsewhere and not even struggling to keep quiet. She could feel her mouth moving even as she tried to smile at her wizards and the Headmaster. As usual, the office was ridiculously warm. She shed her robes quickly, revealing her uniform. _Who knew a uniform could look so nice? _

Lucius and Draco greeted her even as the words tumbled from her mouth. _This is an excellent opportunity to think about something other than the fact that I could be saying something regrettable. Sweet Circe, but my mouth is moving at an astonishing rate._

"I've just come from DADA and _sweet merciful Merlin_ the new teacher is _completely inept_. I cannot believe my partner thought a babbling curse might be effective in a duel, but then again it did keep me from annihilating her as usual. My mind just wasn't functioning. I mean, it _was_, but it wasn't even in the classroom! All I could think about was kissing Draco and Lucius' hands and how heavenly you both smell! Do you taste good, too? I might steal a lick sometime, just to see. Oh! I've been thinking about the binding vows, and maybe it isn't so bad if they're meant literally, because I've tried to imagine you two all wet and in the tub with me—"

Here she stopped speaking abruptly and heaved a relieved sigh. Lucius stood frozen before her, wide-eyed. Draco, too, was in a similarly motionless state, and his mouth hung open a bit. _Good heavens, I wonder what I was babbling on about! _Professor Dumbledore lowered his wand and cleared his throat.

"That's better. Miss Granger, thank you for accommodating the Malfoys at such short notice. In light of the time, I have ordered lunch to be served here. Won't you all join me?" He gestured toward the heavily laden table by the hearth.

The spell seemed to be broken then; her future husbands regained mobility and moved slowly toward the table. They both looked a little dazed still, but one pulled out her chair for her and the other draped a napkin across her lap. The meal began rather quietly. Hermione's nerves had finally had enough.

"I seem to have said something offensive while under that curse. Please forgive me?"

Lucius met her eye, and she noticed that his eyes were smiling. "No offense was given at all, lady. You simply caught us off guard. Fortunately we weren't dueling at the time. Speaking of that, please tell me about your new teacher."

_What did I say?! Oh well, surely Dumbledore knows how terrible whatshisname is . . ._

She replied, "Well, he's very young, and it's not exactly a job for the faint-hearted. I'm sure he'll hit his stride soon. Hopefully."

Lucius countered, "Not every dark arts defense scholar is fit to teach that subject. The school was lucky to have had Severus, even for just that one year. He was a brilliant man."

Draco agreed, adding, "Did you know he was my godfather?"

They continued in that vein, and it wasn't for several minutes of pleasant conversation that Hermione realized Lucius had steered them adeptly from whatever had stunned them earlier.

After lunch had been cleared, Dumbledore sat down at his desk with a large pile of owl posts. Lucius took Hermione's hand in his and led her to his customary spot. She sank to his knee without prompting and felt his warm, strong hands wrap around her. _They're so large they almost wrap the entire way around me_. _I feel safe here._

"My lady, I lied earlier." The wizard had lifted one hand to her head and toyed with one of her wayward curls.

"About what, Mr. Malfoy?"

"When I said you gave no offense. In truth, the words you spoke under that curse cut me to the core," he was trying to keep from smiling, she thought, and doing and excellent job of it, "and I crave recompense."

Hermione saw where he was leading and followed willingly. It was an enjoyable game with Lucius.

"Will you tell me how to make it right?"

"Perhaps a token of your affection might soothe my heart."

She bit her lip in an attempt to keep a straight face. "Of course, like a lock of my hair, or maybe my handkerchief, or-"

"You are a _minx_." He said the word in a complimentary way, and Hermione believed him. After all, he seemed to enjoy teasing. She blushed even as she began to lean toward him. Lucius was keeping very still except for his eyes, which glanced from hers to her mouth. She kissed his cheek twice and he pulled her to her now-favorite position, tucked under his chin with his strong arms wrapped around her.

"One day soon you will miss your mark."

_He'll murmur sweet nothings in that sexy drawl of his until your eyes cross._ She inhaled his scent and smiled into the collar of his robes. _Astoria was right._ "Undoubtedly, Mr. Malfoy. I think that will be the day to begin using your given name."

Lucius chuckled, and the young witch felt the vibrations travel from his chest through her own body. "Then I hope you continue offending me so sorely, that we may test your marksmanship."

His hand stroked over her hair and down her back. _He'll run his fingers through your hair, and up and down your back until you purr with pleasure_. "Now, tell me about my hands. You seem to like them enough to have complimented them earlier. What is it about them, hmmmm?"

His fingers were softly stroking patterns across her back and sides, causing her to sigh pleasurably against his neck. His words suddenly registered in her head, and she struggled feebly to sit up. Lucius was having none of it and held her in place with another laugh.

"Wait, what? What did I say earlier?" She had ceased trying to escape and was back against his shoulder.

"Tell me about my hands, witch," he murmured into her hair. His fingers roamed to her sides and lightly tickled.

Hermione clamped down on a shriek of laughter, and Lucius drew his head back enough so that he could look her in the eye. "My hands?"

There was no escape. The young witch took one of his large hands into both of hers, learning its shape and texture. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "They're so much larger than mine. Look - you can fold your fingers down over my mine most of the way." She had aligned their palms to show him.

"What else?"

"Hmmmm . . . they're warm, and the skin is soft. You must not do much manual labor . . .?" Her eyes turned up to his questioningly.

He was looking at her with an incredulous sneer. "I am a businessman, dear lady. I employ others to do my work for me."

Hermione looked back down at the hand she held. "Your hands are very gentle when you touch me."

"Always," he murmured, then added, "You forgot talented."

"Hmmm?"

"My hands are very talented. I look forward to showing you the many things they can do." His hand had taken both of hers by the wrists and drawn them to his lips, but he kept his gaze locked with hers.

Hermione was blushing furiously. _He's going to show me what he can do with his hands . . _._I cannot believe he just said that to me . . ._ _I think I want him to show me . . . _Lucius' eyes devoured her face briefly, then he shut his eyes and swallowed. "You test my limits, Miss Granger. Perhaps you will tell me about your other teachers, now?"

Their former conversation resumed as Hermione played with a button on Lucius robes. They didn't so much as pause until the bell rang. Her intended husband (_how would she differentiate between them - older husband? First husband?_ She wondered if there were established terms in place) sighed and helped her to her feet. The kiss he placed on the back of her hand was lingering, and he didn't relinquish her hand until she rose on her tiptoes and pulled him down for one last kiss on his cheek. _He'll set a trap to steal a kiss and you will be caught in it. I want to kiss Lucius Malfoy._

Draco was wandering the office aimlessly. She came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. "Sir, are you looking for something?"

He gave an almost smile and his eyes beamed at her. "Found it."

"Hi."

"Hello."

They stood and smiled at each other for a few moments until Lucius bade them both good day and left. Then Draco pulled her by the hand to the alcove and transfigured the chair into their preferred seating arrangement. They sank into it side by side, quite literally - the couch seemed to be even smaller this visit.

It seemed that, as was their habit together, the two became instantly nervous. They blurted out simultaneously,

"What-"

"Sorry!"

You g-"

The tension disappeared immediately, and Hermione gestured for her wizard to speak first. He blushed and glanced down at her hand, then tangled his fingers with hers.

"About what you said earlier, I wondered if you had any questions."

"What did I say earlier?"

Draco paused, still not looking at her. "When you were under the babbling curse, you mentioned the binding vows. Do you still have questions, or did Lucius already answer them?"

_Great and merciful Merlin, did he just say what I thought he said? That I was babbling about the binding ceremony. Kill me now, since you didn't kill me then. _The young witch tried to remind herself that, to pureblood wizards, this topic was, as part of their culture, perfectly acceptable. Except for Draco, who was as inexperienced as she.

If Hermione had interpreted correctly, Draco was trying to hide the fact that he was jealous of Lucius' time with her. She felt a new tenderness for the young wizard, and she leaned down to his shoulder and kissed it. Then she laid her head on the same spot and drew her legs up to curl against his. Their hands, still intertwined, rested on her knees. _Maybe Draco and I can talk about this more easily if we employ Lucius' no-eye-contact tactic_.

"Lucius and I don't talk about the courtship, or being married. Mostly he asks me about my day and teases me. I think he's trying his best not to frighten me away."

Draco said quietly, "That sounds like him. He can be very intense, and I think at this point that _would_ frighten you. And he is a terrible tease."

"You love him very much."

"Yes, I do. You will, too, soon. He's the best man I know."

"How do these kinds of marriages work? In monogamous ones, people get jealous and fight. Is that magnified when there are more husbands?"

Draco's fingers were running over her knee, causing little shivers to run through her. "Jealousy isn't exclusive to marriage, nor are fights. They occur wherever they're allowed, I think. I won't let them rule our marriage, nor will Lucius. Are you trying to ask if I'm jealous of him?"

"I don't know . . . maybe?"

"No, I'm not. Of your time, yes. I want you all to myself. Then again, so does he. That will change when we can be together. No more chaperones, no more visits - just the three of us at Malfoy Manor."

She shivered slightly at that thought. "I do have questions about the things you vowed at the ceremony, but I'm not sure if I can bring myself to ask you."

"All right. Ask whenever and only if you want, or talk with Astoria - although I don't know if the Nott vows were similar to ours."

"How about if, for now, I just ask when the wedding will be?"

"Saturday evening after graduation, unless . . ."

"Go on."

"Unless you'd be willing to forgo the graduation in favor of an earlier wedding. We could be wed on Friday, under the full moon."

She'd heard of full-moon weddings. Held on the eve of the moon's waxing, they could be of great portent, full of old magic, and were a favorite among pureblood families. Hermione raised her head to look at the young wizard. His handsome face was set in preparation of disappointment. "It's completely up to you - whatever you want."

_He would let me ruin a tradition just so that I can hear my name called and honors announced. They'll do that anyway, even if I'm not there_. "I'd like a full-moon wedding. I don't know much about them - we could research them in the library sometime soon?"

Draco's face lit up like the sun, and his smiled stretched across his face. "Absolutely."

On impulse, Hermione leaned forward and kissed him. He made a contented sound and held the back of her head with his hand, holding her in place. She leaned her hands on his chest and forgot about everything except the synchronized movement of their lips. The bell rang, signifying the end of the visit, and the two reluctantly separated at the office door. The visit had lasted only ninety minutes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi, Everyone! Here's another installment of this crazy story. Now, please don't be too impatient. Ginny had something to say, and you know how she is. She wanted a chapter, and there was no getting around her. Tomorrow's update will give you a Malfoy fix. I promise.**

**Honoria Granger, you're right - it's all very civilized. I just love civilized! If, at some point, I can swing some civilized discord then it will be dedicated in your honor ;)**

**Jarvia Elipton, I'm glad you like this version of Draco Malfoy. Heads up - plenty of Draco in upcoming chapters!**

**cloe3511, you're right - Lucius' hands are screech-worthy. I look forward to frustrating you for a while to come!**

**Gracie Laufey, I love you. You write the sweetest little notes!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 13 - Tuesday Evening

_I'm going to be married in two weeks. Lucius wants to show me what he can do with his hands. Draco may or may have not masturbated in the shower last night while thinking about me. I'm marrying two wizards. When did I accept that last part so completely? _

The rest of Tuesday was a blur. She took no notes in any of her classes and couldn't remember what she'd had for dinner. The visit with the Mal- with the—with _her wizards_ looped through her brain continuously. She vaguely remembered Harry's presence during the course of the day, and now she realized he was here at her side, escorting her back to their tower in the post-dinner crowd.

Ron had been absent at dinner, and Hermione commented on that fact.

"Oh, errrrr . . . I saw him sneak out the front doors of the castle as we made our way in to dinner. Him and Lisa Turpin," Harry shamefacedly admitted. _Circe on a broom - Harry's actually embarrassed about something. Oddly enough, it has nothing to do with himself._

"If it's all the same to you, let's not talk about Ron. I can't help but feel he's not the same person anymore, and I don't want to dwell on it just now."

Harry's normally pleasant expression faded to one of grief for a split second, but he managed to keep his voice upbeat. "Absolutely! Good idea, 'Mione."

They were just stepping through the portal into the commons with a group of fellow Gryffindors, and Hermione caught sight of Ginny up ahead. The myriad of questions she'd been storing up about the Weasley's stakes came to mind. _I'll ask her right now._

First, she needed to explain herself to Harry. She pulled him aside. "I'm not asking you to choose between us, Harry. He's your friend, and hasn't done anything to you."

Harry shook his head in disagreement. "'He _has_ changed. I'm not sure if I can be his friend for much longer."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "You and Ron have been friends from the start! Don't do something you'll regret, please?"

He looked appalled. "Something I'll _regret_? Hermione, I _regret_ not doing something a long time ago, when he first started treating you so poorly. Do you think I didn't notice? He and I have nothing in common anymore, save Quidditch and Ginny. And Ginny doesn't want anything to do with him."

Molly Weasley's words came to mind. _'I do not think we can forgive him . . . Arthur and the boys [could] choose to disown him'._

"He's an idiot, yes – but that doesn't mean I want to hurt him. I don't want to come between the two of you."

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and stooped to look her in the eye. "Don't try to protect Ron from the consequences of his own actions."

"Let's just do what we originally agreed, and not talk about him for now."

"Deal." He gave her a tight hug and turned toward the fireplace, where Ginny and Luna were snuggling on the couch.

Hermione beat him to Ginny by mere seconds. "You! Up in my room now!" She lowered her voice to a hiss and added, "I need to talk with you about stakes."

Ginny's curiosity must have been piqued, because she only gave Harry a quick kiss before following her friend to the dorms. There, Hermione locked the door and cast a Muffliato before dragging Ginny to her bed. She flopped down along one side and motioned for Ginny to join her. The two lay side by side with their heads on the pillows, Ginny facing Hermione, and the curly-headed witch staring at the ceiling.

"What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with the Weasley stakes." She looked accusingly at her friend. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Ginny groaned and covered her eyes with one hand. "I honestly didn't know! It's not something that's talked about until acceptance or binding, or even the wedding. My mum obviously knew, but I _promise_ that she only just told me. And she probably only did that because she knew you'd want to talk to me about it."

They lay there quietly for a few minutes. Finally Ginny said, "I know how you are, Hermione. You've probably got a bulleted list of thoughts and questions somewhere in your head, and it's only going to get longer and longer. Ask me something."

"Honestly, at the moment I'm stuck on the fact that Percy cast a stake for me."

Ginny giggled. "Can you even imagine Percy in bed? He'd probably be worried about wrinkling the sheets!"

"No, but I can't imagine any of your brothers in bed! They're . . . they're _brothers_ to me!"

"Oh, come on – how about Bill? He's got that whole dangerous wizard thing going for him. What witch at Hogwarts hasn't had a crush on him?"

"Me. Sorry."

"Or Charlie? Think about how lonely he must get, out there on the dragon reserve with nothing to do but stay muscular and fit . . . nothing?"

"Not even a bit."

"The twins might not be so bad, either, as long as they left their Wheezes out of the bedroom! Think how sweet they are."

"No! None of them! That's just . . . _not_ how I think about any of them. I know they're your brothers, but _ick_!"

"Well, you pined after Ron for years, so you couldn't have thought of _him_ as a brother."

"You know, Ginny, I don't know what I thought about Ron. Now, looking back, all I ever thought about was holding his hand, or cuddling on a couch. I don't think that's how someone feels about the person they plan to marry."

"You mean that's not how you feel about Draco, or Lucius."

"Mmmhmmm."

"So, you want to do more than hold Draco's hand, Hermione?" Ginny asked in a playful singsong voice. "You don't want to just cuddle with Lucius on a couch? Whatever do you want to do with them, hmmm?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her friend even as she said, "Enough! Back to stakes."

"Oh, yes – back to the fact that Percy wanted to—" Ginny was cut off with a pillow thumped over her head. "And Bill also wanted to—"

Hermione thumped her again and raised the pillow in a mock-threatening manner. "I mean it!"

Ginny looked like she was trying to swallow her laughter. "Sorry, it's just . . .never mind. Back to stakes."

"Can six wizards really cast stakes for the same witch? Isn't that a bit excessive? I mean, think about it . . ."

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and burst into giggles again before settling down. "Yes, that would be excessive, and it's actually not at all what you're thinking. They all cast stakes, but you wouldn't have married all six of them. There are laws governing the ancient houses and house wives, and the first is that a house with more than four heirs will be split in two. That's a well-known one - to purebloods, at least."

She continued, "If Ron hadn't screwed things up royally and the stakes had been given precedence, you would have been given the right to choose three, or even four, husbands. Whichever of my brothers had been left would have had to search for another bespoke witch, and then cast again for her."

"Where can I find a copy of these laws? I'd like to see them for myself."

"Honestly? I have no idea. Most of them are probably so old-fashioned that they aren't even relevant any more. You could ask Lucius."

"I could."

"Hermione, I'm glad Ron didn't cast for you."

"I'm starting to feel the same way. I wasn't meant to be with him."

"My mum's pretty sure he's being weeded by the covenant. I'll bet things get ugly this weekend." Hermione looked confused, and Ginny explained, "He's been called home."

Hermione didn't want to think about her ex-crush. She directed her thoughts back to the original purpose of Ginny being there and asked another question.

"Gin, what about your mother and father? I can't even say it, but the thought occurred to me . . . _you know._"

Ginny made a sound of disgust. "Sex with my dad? Now _that is_ ick! Parents should never, _ever _have sex, not even with a spouse. No, you wouldn't have had to do that because my mum's still living. They're part of a current house marriage."

Another thought occurred to Hermione. "Do you suppose that's how Draco feels about Lucius?"

"I'm pretty sure he's okay with it. After all, in order for him to get sex, Lucius has to get it, too."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Have you honestly given much thought at all to the sex part?"

"Not really."

The two witches lay silently in the twilit room. Finally, Ginny turned her head again to look at her friend. "Hermione, I know you're brilliant and well-read, and your dreams probably involve complex Arithmancy mixed with unreadable Runes, but you're amazingly innocent."

"I am _not_ – I have seen with my own eyes what the human body is capable of, thanks to you three!"

"No, I don't mean that. I'm sure you know all about tab A and slot B, and understand all the associated terminology more so than most of us. What I mean is, you don't think about sex – fantasize about it – the way the rest of us do."

"Astoria said something similar to me today. You're right – I haven't thought much about it until this week, and I still don't know if I want to talk about it. Do you think—Is that bad?"

"Not at all. You're what my mum calls a late bloomer. You just haven't been interested until now. You're exactly where I was a few years ago."

_Great. I'm being compared to a sixteen year-old Ginny. _She tried not to be offended. Ginny was still talking. "Now that you're suddenly aware of that stuff, you're going to be more interested. The hardest part is that it can be embarrassing to talk – or even think - about it at first."

"You can say that again."

"If you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Hermione was blushing as she sat up and pulled her friend in to a squeeze. "Thanks, Gin. I might need that."

Ginny reverted to her former teasing mood. "Oh, _believe me_, you will! Those two will—"

"Out."

Her friend left, leaving the sound of happy laughter hanging in the room. Hermione read and worked on assignments until the moon showed in the late spring sky. _Ten days until it waxes, and I am wed. _She washed her face and brushed her teeth, and climbed between the sheets of her bed. Sleep came quickly, along with dreams of dancing in a white gown with Draco, of giving herself to Lucius, and of sleeping in the arms of two wizards.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi kiddies! Here's the last update for the week. I'll be back Monday with ch15, which hopefully will have been beta'd by the inimitable bunnyhops. She's a brilliant witch!**

**Oh my wickedness! Such funny, quirky reviews! I am sending big, pink, sparkly lace hearts out to all of you! Specifically:**

**StarGirlPotter - welcome aboard! Flattery will get you everything except another chapter before Monday.**

**rpavlat and cloe3511 - you both used the word 'cheeky' regarding me/my story. It's true - I'm cheeky. I have the dimpled smirk to prove it. I'm glad you approve that the story is a bit cheeky as well.**

**HonoriaGranger - you described the last chapter as hilarious and also icky. What an excellent review! Thank you for the encouragement as well as the good laugh.**

**saori165, Cheryl Grant, and bodel - I also want to see Ron get his comeuppance, and possibly also a good fall-down-ance. **

** .Executioner, LadyNorth76, cat130, LadyinRed, and arabellagrace - extra hearts to you girls!**

**marianna79 - you have a mind like our sweet heroine, and questions that demand answers! I can only promise my best attempt to assuage your burning thirst for knowledge.**

**Grove26 - NEWTS question. Answer: those were the vague tests I referred to in ch1 (since JKR has said that Hermione returned after the battle at Hogwarts to sit her NEWTS, and I should do at least one thing in accordance with JKR). She has taken them a few weeks prior to our storyline. Maybe they will come at some point (?).**

**Last, but certainly not least, MissMaryLiz - yes, the chapters are short, and yes you're being horribly deprived of binge-reading material, but the trade-off would be one huge chapter every so often. I suggest you have a good, long sulk at my expense, and then complain to me frequently. I'm a very good listener! )**

**BW**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 14 - Wednesday

Hermione woke early to the sound of an owl scrabbling noisily against her window ledge. When ignoring it didn't work, she finally got up to take its delivery. It wasn't until the window was opened that she realized how enormous the bird actually was. It was a full-grown eagle-owl, and, after dropping her letter at her feet, it flew to haughtily roost on one of her bedposts. She had nothing to offer it by way of payment, save some old chocolates, and the bird was unimpressed.

The young witch picked up the letter and ran her fingers over the heavy vellum, tracing the beautiful lettering on the front. It was addressed to Miss H. Granger, Gryffindor Tower, and the large wax seal was embossed with an 'M'. _This is from either Draco or Lucius. _ For a fleeting moment, Hermione wondered if a letter counted as a gift, and if she should open it without Dumbledore's permission. Then her curiosity got the better of her, and she tore it open. It simply read,

_Miss Granger,_

_Permit me the pleasure of your company at breakfast in the Headmaster's office. Seven o'clock._

_Yours,_

_L. Malfoy_

_Mine._ She mouthed the word several times experimentally. _He's mine._ _And he wants to see me this morning._ Hermione sighed and glanced at her bedside clock; _now to begin the chaperone shuffle._ She sent Harry a Galleon message, 1_ hr. pls._, and shooed the owl out her window with a hastily scribbled reply to the affirmative.

It took nearly that amount of time for her to shower, wand-dry her curls, put on a bit of make-up, and find something to wear without Ginny's help (and she ended up settling on her uniform in the end). When she descended to the commons, Harry was actually waiting for her, alone. They headed toward the door together.

"Where are the girls?"

He grinned smugly. "Sleeping. I think I wore them out last night."

"Errr, well done, I guess. I wasn't sure you'd even get my message. Thanks." The two friends exited the tower and started along the castle hall towards the staircases.

"I needed to go to see Professor McGonagall before breakfast anyway, so it's no big deal."

"What about?" They'd managed to hop on to the top staircase just before it moved to its next location.

"I applied for a summer Auror apprenticeship a while back. There's paperwork to fill out this week, and the professor's going to help me with it."

"I thought you were going to start that in the fall. It's not like you need the money, Harry – your parents left you a small fortune! Why not spend the summer with the girls?"

Even though they were the only two living things in that part of the castle at the moment, Harry leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Lu's pregnant. We'll move into Grimmauld Place after graduation, and then get married some time this summer. A job is just another part of growing up."

Hermione knew she shouldn't be stunned - after all, she'd witnessed them attempting to procreate several times in the past month despite her best efforts to the contrary. Still, the thought of her friends becoming parents took her by surprise. _It's only shocking because it's not something I've ever thought about for myself. _

"Congratulations, Harry! Does Molly know?"

"Yeah, we spoke to her Saturday, when she was here to see you. She's over the moon, and I am, too, actually." He looked it.

_He's never had a family of his own – of course he's excited._ "What does Lu think?"

"She's . . . you know how Luna is. I've never seen anything get her flustered. She just took it in stride, and began making talismans against odderknocks. Whatever they are," he chuckled fondly.

"And Ginny?"

"Now _she_ wants a baby, but I told them I wasn't having two pregnant wives at the same time on our first go."

"That makes sense." _It actually does. Harry's going to be a wonderful husband and father._ She voiced her thoughts to him. Harry smiled bashfully and playfully bumped her shoulder with his.

They'd arrived at the Headmaster's office by now, and Hermione wished Harry good luck with his paperwork before pushing open the door. Lucius was hanging his hat on a rack and turned to her, bowing fluidly.

"Miss Granger." He drew her into the office by her hand and led her toward the now-familiar hearthside table. "Pleasant day to you."

He pulled out her chair, and when she as settled in it pushed her in. "Where's Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

Lucius had seated himself at her right, and was already pouring her tea. He nodded his head toward the open door to the Headmaster's private quarters, and winced. "He's gone to change his socks. Apparently the ones he was wearing weren't cheerful enough for a Wednesday."

Conversation halted as the two filled their plates and began eating. Lucius angled his chair toward her, and alternately ate his breakfast and fed her bites from his plate. "Try this," he would say, and brooked no refusal. She didn't bother trying to decline his offerings after the first time. Lucius' tastes in food were sophisticated, and Hermione was delighted with the new flavors.

He watched raptly as she chewed, swallowed and made approving noises, and for some reason this made Hermione blush. It was the most intimate act Hermione had ever shared with another person.

At one point, she didn't quite catch the entire mouthful, and melted goat cheese ran down her lip to her chin. She was looking at Lucius when it happened, and saw his eyes darken before he blinked. He stopped her hand as it moved to clean her face. Instead, he leaned forward, still holding her struggling hand by the wrist, and swiped the mess from her face with one of his fingers. Then he looked at her again as he cleaned his finger with one quick lick of his tongue.

_Sweet Merlin._ For one brief moment, Hermione felt a need to kiss Lucius. She imagined tasting the tangy sauce on his lips, and the thought made her dizzy. Desire sprouted within her and tentatively spread. A second later her heart began pounding, and she panicked. _No! I'm not ready!_

Lucius had already turned back to his plate, and was calmly eating as if nothing had happened. _Maybe nothing did._ Even as she thought that, she knew it was a poor lie. Astoria's words came to her once again. _He'll set a trap to steal a kiss and you will be caught in it. I want to kiss Lucius Malfoy. Just not quite yet._

Professor Dumbledore joined them at the table shortly after, and talk turned to school, Lucius' most recent business trip, and then the weather. It was the sort of talk that didn't require one's complete focus, and the young witch let her thoughts wander in between polite comments. Hermione was expecting the breakfast to end soon, when the Headmaster asked, "Have you talked with Hermione about the wedding ceremony?"

She was instantly attuned to the conversation. When she swiveled her head to look at Lucius, he was regarding her with a tender look. He answered, "Perhaps you will sanction some more time for us this morning, Albus?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Lucius stood and held out his hand to Hermione, and she allowed him to lead her to their chair in the alcove. When he had sat down, she sat across his thighs and then wriggled up higher to lean against his shoulder. For the first time, she wrapped the arm closest to Lucius around his back, tucking it between his body and the chair. The robes he wore today had soft velvet lapels and collar, and so she absently stroked the material with the fingers of her free hand.

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "Draco tells me you have agreed to be married under the waxing moon next week."

"Yes."

"The ceremony will be held at the Manor, and your dress has been completed."

"You've chosen the date, the place, what I'm to wear . . . has _everything_ been decided already?" She struggled to keep her tone civil, even as she bristled at the idea. _I never planned to just show up to my own wedding_. _I may have never thought about actually having sex with Ron, but I'd most certainly picked out our wedding flowers and my dress!_

Lucius was speaking into her hair in a soothing voice, and the sensation slightly distracted her from her irritation. "Of course not, pet. Those decisions were based on the demands of the covenant, and it is traditional in pureblood families for grooms to give their bride her dress. Yours was begun when we cast our stake, and has been waiting for you some time now."

_By my hand she will be clothed. Tradition is going to be a royal pain in my backside._ She raised her head to give him a warning look. "If my dress is horrid . . ."

Lucius laughed outright. "I give you my word, it isn't horrid. For the short time you wear it, you will more than approve."

"What's left for me to decide?"

"Not having been a bride myself, I honestly cannot say. I suggest you talk with Molly Weasley or Minerva McGonagall about that. They'll be more than glad to help."

Hermione's orderly mind sprang into action. "Surely it takes more time than a week to prepare a wedding? Shall I make a list? Do I have a deadline?"

"Prepare a list, and have it to me by this coming Sunday. You have only to tell me your desires, and I will see to them myself."

_Is he even talking about the wedding ceremony?_ The tendril of desire that had sprouted at the breakfast table spread a bit more. His finger was tracing her ear, and she shivered in pleasure. Lucius murmured, "The favor of a full moon, the safety of our own dwelling, and a bride clothed by her husbands' hands. The covenant is pleased, and the ancient traditions will be satisfied."

Hermione realized any irritation she'd initially felt at what she'd considered to be presumptuous decisions had been quelled by Lucius' explanation and her own responding logic. Now, she found that she was instead filled with a sense of urgency and determination. The fact that she was given free reign to accomplish whatever she could in a week helped.

Lucius sighed deeply, and Hermione realized their time must be nearly up. She tried to stall. "What will you do today?"

He squeezed her to his chest in a quick, tight hug and planted a kiss on her temple even as he stood. She slid to her feet reluctantly. It had been a nice visit, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye to her wizard. _My wizard. Mine_. The words sounded more believable in her mind this time. His arms were still around her, and he leaned down so that his chin rested on the top of her head.

"I'm taking a Portkey to Paris for a meeting this afternoon, during which I will undoubtedly think of you. That reminds me, I brought you something. Albus has it over on his desk. May I give it to you myself?"

Hermione blushed, and couldn't keep from smiling delightedly. "Yes, please. If that's okay with the Headmaster."

"I assure you, pet, that I will not lead you astray of your rules."

His gift was a single rose and he presented it to her formally, bowing deeply. The romantic gesture made her giddy. She took it from his hand with trembling fingers. When Lucius stood to his full height, Hermione immediately pulled him back down to her level for a set of kisses on his cheek.

"Thank you! It's lovely." She added in a self-conscious voice, "It's the color of your eyes."

Lucius' solemn mouth barely twitched, but his eyes danced playfully as he replied, "Perhaps it will help you to think of me, then."

_Great and merciful Merlin, I am marrying a twinkler. TWO twinklers. I might just die from a twinkle overdose._ "Perhaps it will."

Lucius left, then, and shortly after the Headmaster walked Hermione to the base of the stairs, past a pair of carelessly thrown knickers, to where Harry was sprawled with Ginny straddling his lap. His hands were locked on her hips, seemingly in rigor, as she rolled and bucked her hips against him. Harry's face was twisted in agony, and if Hermione hadn't known better she would have thought he was in pain. Seconds later, Ginny slumped against Harry, and he let his head fall back against the stone steps with a small thud.

The two finally noticed their audience, and Hermione rolled her eyes in aggravation. "Honestly, you two! I don't need to see this right after breakfast!"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled blissfully. "Hi, 'Mione."

"Ah, to be young and in the arms of a beautiful man," the Headmaster murmured to himself. He bid them all good day and returned to his office.

"Seriously! It was bad enough when you weren't my chaperone, but can't you at least restrain yourselves when there's a chance Lucius or Draco might catch you? Oh, sweet Circe – he saw you, didn't he? Lucius saw the two of you . . ."

Hermione closed her eyes in mortification then stormed over to the pair of knickers she'd passed on her way down the stairs. She balled them up in her fist and walked back to throw them at Ginny's head. "Put those on! And go . . . do whatever it is you need to do so that we can head to class and pretend this didn't just happen. Again."

She took the opportunity to place Stasis and Shield charms on her rose, and then carefully slipped it into the pocket of her robes.

Apparently a quick Scourgify was sufficient for her friends, and within five minutes Hermione and a very mellow Harry and Ginny were on their way.

Draco wasn't in Herbology this morning, and so Hermione took the opportunity to spend the entire class daydreaming of Lucius, who might well be daydreaming of her. Later, as she waited for Harry to meet her at the classroom door, she reflected on her morning so far. _My best friend has knocked up one of his two girlfriends, and now he's going to marry them both and start a sanctioned harem. I'm marrying two wizards in a little more than a week, and have four days to figure out what I'd like for the ceremony. I am forced to let Molly and Minerva help, because obviously I haven't a clue about pureblood wizard weddings. Lucius can make my knickers damp simply by cleaning sauce off my face and licking his finger._

One last thought occurred to her as Harry bounded down the hall to her side. _Lucius said I'd only be in my wedding gown for a short time_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Happy Monday, Everyone! Thanks for the encouraging reviews and PMs! Here you go! Oh - and to those of you who've said you don't like the humorous side of the storyline (read: Harry and the girls), please remember that there are a myriad of other great HP fanfictions awaiting your perusal.**

**REMINDER: I left a note on my profile page about changing my pen name. Please read it bcs I don't want to type it all over again. After this goes up, I will reset to glittergrrrl05.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 15 – Wednesday

Harry simply said, "Follow me," when he met her outside of Herbology. He turned on his heel and set a brisk pace through the castle towards the great hall. Instead of following the rest of the crowd in to lunch, he beckoned her to the entrance hall, and from there to the main doors.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Hermione followed Harry along the paved path towards the lake in silence until she caught sight of Luna and Draco far ahead, each carrying an armload of something. "What's going on?"

Her friend grinned at her, pulling her along by the arm now. "Picnic! Who says Ron's the only one who can sneak out during meals?"

Hermione gave a delighted laugh and broke into a run. "That's brilliant!"

By the edge of the lake, and behind an outcropping of stone, Luna was spreading out a large blanket. Draco knelt nearby, rummaging through a large basket. By the time Hermione and Harry reached them, most of the work had been done.

Draco stood as she approached, smiling in that happy-grave way of his. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

"Hi." Hermione had resolved to call him by his name when she next saw him, but his greeting threw her off. _I think he's trying not to put any pressure on me. Or maybe he feels shy in front of the others. He can be very sweet._

They stood there for a moment shyly. Draco finally said, "I hope you're hungry. Luna and I asked for at least one of everything, and the house elves added even more. Please sit down."

He was right. The four of them tucked into the meal now spread before them. Hermione noticed that Draco's manners, which had seemed impeccable at their lunch together on Monday, relaxed in this informal atmosphere. For some reason, she enjoyed watching him forgo his fork to eat with his hands, and tried to keep from staring. She was amazed at the amount of food he ingested, and said as much. He treated her to one of his soft, husky laughs. "We had morning Quidditch practice, and flying always makes me hungry."

"Me, too," agreed Harry.

Luna looked up from her Cornish pasty. "You know, I'm always hungriest after—"

Harry silenced her with a firm shake of his head and a change in subject. "Pass the roast chicken, please."

Talk turned back to Quidditch. The last game of the year was on Saturday, and since it was to be a match against Gryffindor and Slytherin, both wizards would be playing. Harry asked Luna to wear a Gryffindor scarf for him, and Draco looked at Hermione speculatively.

She squirmed. _Please don't ask me. I can't say yes right now, and I don't want to hurt you._ The expression on her face must have given him whatever answer he needed. He gave her an understanding sort of smile and turned to ask Luna if she would be announcing the game.

Eventually the conversation naturally divided in two, and Hermione and Draco immersed themselves in a bubble so tight it repelled all sound except each other's voices. They had been talking about careers they'd considered. Draco was saying, "For a long time I wanted to be a Healer."

She looked at his beautiful hands as they gracefully tore apart a roll. An image came to mind unbidden of Draco running his hands over her body. _I'd let you heal me_. She blushed as if on cue. "That's a lofty goal."

"Do you think so?"

"Well, if you think of the hours, and the emotional fatigue Healers must endure. I don't know if I could function in the midst of such suffering. What made you consider it?"

"I think it was because of the way Lucius raised me. Abraxas and Narcissa both died unexpectedly, and so Lucius alternated between panicking every time my nose ran to trying to toughen me up with all kinds of rigorous drills. He learned to heal all my childhood illnesses and injuries, and by the time I entered school, I knew all kinds of useful remedies. Staying alive was important to Lucius, and I think that transferred to me."

"So what about now? I mean, what are you leaning toward?"

Draco gave her a blinding smile. "I love potions work. Severus was a brilliant teacher, and I forgot all about being a Healer after that first lesson in his classroom. Do you remember his speech?"

She laughed delightedly. "_Bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses_?* That man was a master of words!"

"_'Bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death'*_." His smile faltered as he finished the quote, and Hermione realized that Draco must miss his godfather very much. _Another person taken from him_. She tried to steer the conversation gently back to lighter waters.

"What about Lucius? Does he enjoy potions as well?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Lucius is shite at potions. He's too intense. Volatile, really."

"He seems so poised!"

"He has a lot of self-control, and usually keeps his emotions to himself. And, I think you have a calming effect on him. Potions, however, are far too sensitive for his personality. Severus wouldn't even allow him around when he was brewing!"

The sounds of Harry and Luna arguing good-naturedly about something eventually filtered through and dissolved their bubble. Draco was just finishing his last plate of food as the others packed up the remains of lunch. He flopped back on the blanket and gave a contented sigh. Hermione followed the lines of his handsome face until he opened his eyes and caught her in the act. Draco looked triumphant, and he murmured something so quietly that she only saw his lips moving.

"What's that?" She asked in a low voice, leaning forward to hear.

He murmured only slightly louder, smirking, and she moved even closer. "Say it again?"

She was leaning directly over his smiling face, now. Draco raised his voice enough for her to hear him say, "I need to kiss you."

_My words to him, in the hall yesterday. _Hermione blushed and glanced over at Harry and Luna, who were now skipping stones at the edge of the lake. Then she looked toward the castle, which was blocked from their view by the rock formation. _No one can see us – that's why they picked this spot._

She was momentarily distracted, and said softly, "Thank you for giving me time to adjust before . . ." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the castle.

Draco responded, "I understand the need to be away from prying eyes sometimes."

"I'm still working this all out myself; I'm not ready to share this with anyone else quite yet."

"At the moment the only one I'd have you tell is Weasley. He thinks he owns you – and don't think I don't know about his family's stake. Besides, he's a cretin."

"He's the last person I want to tell."

"Because it will make it real?"

_So sweet. So beautiful._ She whispered, "It _is_ real," and lowered her mouth to his.

He reached his hands up to the back of her head and held her in place as he kissed her lips. When she pulled away and sat up, Draco followed. His hands threaded through her hair, drawing her back to him. "I wasn't done yet."

Draco's kisses were insistent, tender and sweet, and Hermione returned them in kind. At some point, though, her mouth opened just as they kissed, and there was an instant change in Draco. He made a low noise of pleasure, and pulled her against his chest, taking her bottom lip between his. There was a new hunger in the way his mouth moved with hers, and the tendril of desire, nurtured by Lucius at breakfast, unfurled yet more within Hermione. She _liked _this new way of kissing.

A loud call from nearby startled them, and they pulled apart, breathless. Draco scrubbed his hand over his face and then looked at her ruefully. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." She blushed yet again, but maintained his gaze, and leaned in to kiss him again.

They picked up where they'd left off, and when Luna and Harry finally interrupted them, Draco's eyes were much darker than their usual pale shade of blue. He pulled his robes around himself, despite the warm temperature. Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and looked down at the blond wizard with what looked to be a sympathetic smile. "Why don't I take 'Mione to class? That way you and Luna can tidy up here?"

Hermione was surprised when Draco didn't stand up to say goodbye. He did, however, reach out for her left hand and press a kiss to her dragon's back. "I'll see you later."

She was still slightly breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and hoped her smile and nod were a sufficient answer. Harry began pulling her towards the castle. Draco looked smug as she glanced back at him one last time over her shoulder.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Harry began teasing her. "So, you and Draco looked like you both enjoyed the picnic."

"_Yes, Harry_."

"And you seem to be getting along _very_ well."

She growled at him as he continued, "In fact, I'll bet you two would have gotten along even_ better_ if we hadn't interrupted!"

Hermione felt guilty at once for her attitude. "Thank you for the picnic, Harry. I enjoyed it very much."

"Mmmmhmmm, I noticed."

She gave in to the teasing and laughed along with him, although she gave him a good punch to the shoulder. As they neared the castle entrance, Harry slowed down. "Oh, look who's waiting for us. Brace yourself."

Ron was waiting for them on the steps, and he had a sullen look on his face. "Where've you two been?"

Harry said, "Hi to you, too. We had a picnic lunch and study group."

The redhead looked suspiciously at Hermione, and she suddenly wondered if it was obvious what she'd been doing. _For some reason I hope it is._ "You two must be pretty cozy with whoever you were _studying_."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't question with whom you keep company, so don't do it to me."

Ron thought for a moment, and answered warily, "Fair enough. But it's only right that you tell me when you'll be gone at meals."

A red wave of rage threatened to wash over Hermione, and she sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Schooling her features into an innocently curious expression, she asked, "Why's that?"

Obviously shocked speechless, he blinked stupidly (really, even if she hadn't been so furious she would have been irritated by his idiocy). He stuttered, "Y-Y-You know what I mean."

Harry butted in, "Come on, 'Mione. We're going to be late."

"Sorry Harry!" Without another glance at the boy she had once liked so much, Hermione turned and walked quickly away_._ She wanted to think of something – anything – besides Ron Weasley, and the first thing that came to mind was Draco's mouth devouring hers. She felt better at once, remembering the sensuous rhythm their mouths had quickly learned. _I cannot believe I ever wanted to kiss Ron like that._

_*_from the film_ Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._


	16. Chapter 16

**You all just keep saying the nicest things and wanting the same things I do! Thank you for the encouragement!**

**Notes:**

**Alesia G, Happy Death Executioner, dutch potterfan, StrongHermione, rpavlat, Btterflykiss69, BellsLoveJazz: I promise that Ron will find out at just the right time.**

**arabellagrace and the youngestGorgons: oh, your poor sweet things, jonesing for some Lucius. Me too.**

**Brightki: Love you!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 16 – Wednesday

Arithmancy was Hermione's favorite subject, and Advanced Arithmancy Studies was, without doubt, her all-time favorite class. Today, however, Professor Vector's lecture seemed to drone on and on. Eventually the curly-headed witch couldn't contain her mind within the classroom. Her thoughts went everywhere and nowhere at once. Images of Draco, the sensations of curling up in Lucius' arms, the scent of them both, and wedding planning questions flowed together with the memories of being fed and kissed. Her body thrummed pleasantly and she felt slightly overheated. Her hand went to her pocket several times to touch the rose from Lucius.

Finally the students were dismissed, and Hermione was free to go back to her room and do nothing but daydream. First, though, she needed to find a chaperone. She waited patiently, using the time to begin a mental list of things to ask Minerva and Molly about pureblood weddings. Harry still hadn't shown up when the last student left the classroom, and she turned to ask Professor Vector for help.

The professor was distracted as usual, and only slightly sympathetic when Hermione explained her plight. "I understand. However, there is a faculty meeting this afternoon, and I must be there early to set up for my presentation. We meet in the dungeons today. You may walk with me in that direction and hopefully Mr. Potter will find us along the way."

Hermione decided to send Harry another Galleon message. It was a less than perfect way of communicating sometimes, given the limited number of characters that could be used at one time. Finally, she settled on _pls dungns now_.

Professor Vector was quite possibly the second fastest moving faculty member after Minerva McGonagall. In fact, it took an unbelievably short time for the two witches to cross the castle and descend to the dungeons, and there was no way Harry would have been able to meet her in time unless he was already nearby. The hallway outside of the Potions classroom was empty when they arrived. The curly-headed witch had worked up a light sweat along the way, and her heart was pounding when they finally stopped.

Professor Vector was one of Hermione's favorite instructors, but this had nothing to do with her personality. At best, she was reserved and absent-minded, and at worst, cold and snappish. She was leaning toward her worst at the moment. "This is really quite inconvenient, Miss Granger. Surely you have a contingency plan for such situations?"

"Perhaps I could help you set up, and then when Professor McGonagall arrives, she can—"

The professor interrupted, "She and the Headmaster won't be attending today, and I don't need help. Let me think . . . Oh, I know!" She gestured to someone behind Hermione impatiently.

"Mr. Weasley, isn't it? Come here at once."

Hermione froze. _What could he possibly be doing down here? It's not as if he's taking Potions! _Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron shuffle her way. Her heart rate picked up to an even faster pace. She snapped to action and began hissing, "Professor, you don't understand! I can't go with him. Anyone but him!"

Ron was at her side now, looking curious. "Go where with who?"

To Hermione, Vector said simply, "Nonsense," then turned to Ron and said, "Please escort Miss Granger to your dormitory. Thank you."

With that, Professor Vector entered the classroom and shut the door, leaving Hermione alone in the hall with Ron and her now galloping heart. She was in violation of her courtship rules, in the company of the most inappropriate person in the school, and for some reason her brain felt all pins-and-needles.

Ron was speaking, and for some reason she found it difficult to decipher his words. They seemed to be echoing in her head. "What's she on about, 'Mione? Look, I'm right in the middle of something. Why d'you need someone to take you back to the tower?" As he spoke, he took a step toward her.

Hermione could feel herself begin to sway, and the hall took on a dreamlike quality. A split second thought raced through her head that she was fainting like some helpless fictional heroine. Just as quickly came the argument that she had just raced across the castle, increasing her heart rate, then stood very still, and then increased her heart rate yet again. It was all very logical. Still, she was fainting. Just as her knees buckled and the hall went sideways, she heard someone call out "Aresto Momentum!"

Her head landed on something soft. When the vertigo passed, she opened her eyes. Ron was still standing in the same spot, looking at her with the same vacuous look, and her head was resting in the hands of none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Are you all right?"

"Mmmm." She closed her eyes again and lay quietly for a moment. "Head rush."

"Good thing I forgot my notes in Potions." He helped her to her feet and said darkly in her ear, "Where's Harry, and what's _he_ doing here?"

She shivered at Draco's tone, and whispered with her back to Ron, "Long story. Please, this isn't the right time."

Ron was clearly in a hurry to be someplace else. "Is that why the professor asked me to help you – you're sick? You know I'd help you if it was important, 'Mione, but you look better already. You good to go?"

He seemed suddenly to realize that Draco was acting in a familiar way with her. "Hey, Malfoy - get your paws off her!"

_I can't be alone with either of _them._ I can't be completely alone in the halls, either. _ Hermione's brain finally restarted, finding a solution to her quandary. "You're not going anywhere! The three of us are going to walk —" here she swayed on her feet and caught herself against the wall, "Sorry, still a bit woozy – we're all going to walk to Gryffindor tower together. Or until we see Harry."

Ron looked irritated, and was clearly itching to get away. "I still don't understand why you need two people to help you."

At that moment Draco planted himself in front of her, standing as a shield between her and Ron. She leaned far to her right to look around his torso and shot the redhead an annoyed look. Straightening, she looked up to see a stormy look on the blond wizard's face. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed in resignation, and his expression became stoic.

She addressed Ron. "Obviously I'm not feeling well, you lump! Come on—no, you don't both need to help me walk! I'm woozy, not incapacitated! Just, just stay near me _just in case_."

She brushed the redhead away when he tried to put his arm around her, and would have done the same to Draco, but he was having none of that. When she tried to pull her left forearm out of his grasp, he simply tightened his hold. _He's not happy that Ron's here, and that I haven't told him about our binding. _

Draco held her left forearm in his left hand and curved his right hand around her right shoulder as they walked. She felt the warmth and weight of his arm and struggled against the desire to tuck herself into his side. If he was willing to let go, she didn't know because she didn't try to pull away from him again.

As obvious as it was that Ron wanted to be somewhere else, he also obviously didn't like Draco helping Hermione. "She's not a china doll, Malfoy. 'Mione's tough – she doesn't need coddling."

Actually, Hermione liked the 'coddling', as Ron called it. She realized he had never once treated her like a girl; never touched her tenderly, never reverently as Draco did. Once again she fought against the urge to snuggle into her wizard.

They walked on in silence, until Ron tried again. "I'll take her from here. C'mere, 'Mione."

Her old friend tried once again to put his arm around her. Hermione looked up to see him shoot a nasty look at Draco over her head just as Draco stopped short to keep the redhead from touching her. "Leave her alone, Weasley. She's fine where she is."

Ron had continued moving when Draco had stopped, so he was now ahead of them in the hall by a few steps. He turned to face them, and he suddenly wore a suspicious expression. "What's it to you how 'Mione is, anyway? You two suddenly friends?"

Hermione had had enough. She channeled Ginny and snapped, "Enough! I don't want to hear one more word out of your mouth!"

He looked somewhat chastened, albeit sulky, and walked beside her in silence the rest of the way.

They arrived at the base of the stairs to Gryffindor tower in time to see Harry approaching from the opposite direction. He was carrying his broom and looked freshly showered.

_Of course – Quidditch practice. The Slytherins practiced this morning, so Gryffindor had the pitch this afternoon. That's why he didn't get my message._ She felt like an idiot for not asking about his afternoon schedule earlier. Harry looked between the faces of Ron, Hermione, and Draco, and sussed the situation immediately. His face twisted in penitence, and he started to say something but was cut off by Ron.

"Good. Great. Vector asked me to take 'Mione back to the dorms, and Malfoy latched onto her like some parasite. She's not feeling well, looks like. Thing is, I'm on my way to meet- uh, someone. You can help her from here?"

The redhead finished speaking over his shoulder as he walked back in the direction they'd just come. _So much for his concern. He's more worried about Draco getting too close to me than he is about actually helping me! And he obviously has a girl waiting for him near the dungeons._

"Hermione, I'm _so_ sorry. I thought you knew I had practice this afternoon. What happened?"

Draco spoke quietly from above her head. "Yes, do tell." He hadn't let go of her yet.

"Evidently Professor Vector doesn't understand the ramifications of a pureblood courtship. She handed me off to the first person to show their face, who just happened to be Ron. _He_ was sneaking around in the dungeons, probably waiting for some girl.

"Ursula."

She looked at Draco for clarification. "What?"

"Ursula Penkridge. I passed her in the hall. If the amount of perfume she was wearing was any indication, she was on her way to some assignation."

Hermione snorted indelicately. "Sounds about right. Almost immediately after the professor slammed the door on me, I started feeling faint. I must have fallen right as Draco came round the corner, and," here she looked up at him adoringly, "you caught me."

She turned back to Harry. "Plainly, I couldn't go alone with either one of them, so I insisted they both come along."

"Potter, do you mind if I have a word with Hermione before you take her back to the dorms?" He was already steering her towards the corner at the back of the stairwell. Harry made a shooing gesture and sat down on the stone steps.

Her wizard pushed her up against the back wall and kissed her almost roughly, leaning his hands against the wall to bracket her face. _He's angry_. "Draco, wait," she cried between kisses, "please!"

He continued to kiss her, but his mouth gradually softened its assault. She moved her hands up to stroke his face soothingly. Finally, he broke away from her mouth to lean his forehead against hers. He drew a ragged breath. "Please tell him soon. I need him to know. Please."

Hermione pulled him back down for a kiss, which led to a dozen more. Draco's hands wrapped around her waist gently, and his lips were once again reverent as they moved against hers. She sighed against his mouth and wrapped her arms up around his neck, letting her fingers comb through his silky hair. He pulled back to look at her expectantly.

_I have all the power in this decision_. No matter what Draco wanted or felt, it was ultimately up to her. Her heart was filled with tenderness for him, and she said, "I promise you that I will tell him soon. Something keeps telling me to wait – that the right opportunity hasn't presented itself yet. It's such a strong feeling that I can't help but trust it. Does that make sense?"

"In my head, yes. But my heart isn't nearly as understanding. Actually," he ducked to steal a kiss here, "maybe it's the covenant."

"How does that work? I'm not a Malfoy."

Kiss. "You became one when you accepted the stake." Kiss.

She was trying to fight the fog of pleasure that was creeping over her again. "How?"

"Didn't you feel," kiss, "the magic in the scroll?"

Draco's lips were pushing and pulling at hers in the same undulant motion from earlier, and his hands were tighter now around her waist.

"Mmmhmmmm," she murmured against his mouth. Suddenly her curiosity overpowered her desire. She pushed firmly against his chest and he complied, standing to his full height with a glazed look in his eye. Hermione smiled and reached up to pat his cheeks lightly. "Draco, focus! I want to know what you're talking about. Here, sit with me and tell me about the magic in the scroll."

Draco growled in mock frustration and obeyed, sliding down the wall to sit beside her on the cool stone floor. He explained more fully as he played with her left hand. "The stake was imbued with the magic of the covenant. When you accepted it, I'm sure it responded to you. Did you feel it?"

"Yes! It felt like the magic was purring, and then running into my hands and arms. Then, at the acceptance ceremony, I felt that same feeling throughout my whole body."

"That was the covenant. It's now part of you."

"So you think that maybe it's the covenant that's giving me that feeling about waiting to tell about our binding?"

"That's the most likely. However, that doesn't mean that I'll take your continued silence without protest."

"I wouldn't have expected that," she laughed, "and I won't make you wait much longer. I'm sorry I stopped . . . what we were doing . . . to ask you that, but there's so much I don't know. Do you . . . is that okay?"

His smirk told her it was. "We needed to stop at some point soon, in any case. Let's get you to Harry."

Draco helped her to her feet and led her back to the stairs with his hand on the small of her back. _He likes to touch me. _The thought made her give an involuntary shiver. Harry was waiting patiently in the same spot, and stood when they approached.

"Ready?"

"I guess." She turned to her wizard and felt the room spin. "See you at dinner."

She must have stumbled or looked unsteady, because suddenly both wizards were looking concerned and reaching for her. "Indeed you will. Perhaps you should lie down, though. You look flushed. Harry, will you . . .?" He gestured toward her.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and proceeded to drag her up the stairs.

_I feel quite funny. I think I will lie down for a bit._ She said accusingly, "He called you by your given name."

"He does, sometimes. What about it?"

"I want him to call me by mine. Can we rest for a bit?"

He paused and looked at her oddly. "Right. As soon as I find Gin, you're going to bed." Hermione nodded compliantly and kept her eyes closed, fighting the swooping light-headedness that kept tipping the world at an angle.

"Incidentally," he added when they had begun to climb the stairs again, "why don't you think about using _his_ first name? Honestly, the two of you are ridiculously perfect for each other."


	17. Chapter 17

**Happy Wednesday! Here's the latest update of what one of you has dubbed a romance tinged with the absurd. Love it! Thank you very much for the reviews and PMs. Smooches to you all. **

**sparklesinthesky, thanks again for the heads-up. I completely spaced those two important letters.**

**Silv3rfox, IGOTEAMEDWARD, and macheel: I am a slave to your demands, as evidenced by this update. ;)**

**theparthenon: I love you already. **

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 17 – Wednesday

Hermione napped until dinner, and woke with a foggy head. _At least it's better than vertigo_. She ate her meal with her head propped on Ginny's shoulder and tried to pay attention to the conversation around her. Several times she caught Draco looking with concern at her from the Slytherin table, and each time she smiled reassuringly. _The shock has finally caught up with me, I think._

Afterward he managed to walk alongside her, Harry and the girls through the entrance hall under the auspices of talking about the upcoming Quidditch match.

She felt his fingers brush against hers briefly and smiled.

"That's a very secret smile you have on your face, Miss Granger. Care to share what you're thinking about?" He asked innocently.

She smirked and began to reply, but suddenly Ron was insinuating himself into the group. "Oi! How come no one ever waits for me anymore? What're we talking about? Oh, _hello,_ Malfoy."

Draco managed to reply in a civil tone, "Weasley. We were just talking about a post-game celebration in the village on Saturday."

Ron's tone was sneering. "And what exactly would _we _be celebrating? Gryffindor smearing the pitch with Slytherin one last time?"

Harry cut in, "Enough, Ron. It's our last game at school, and I'd like to spend one last afternoon with all the people we've played with over the years. I think it'd be nice."

Ron started to say something in a nasty tone, but Harry continued, "Speaking of Quidditch, why weren't you at practice today? I would've asked you earlier, but you were in such a hurry."

The redhead replied sullenly, "No point. It's not like I'll be playing on Saturday – I've been called home. My dad called one of his stupid family meetings."

Harry sounded puzzled. "But Gin was at practice." He directed his attention to his girlfriend. "Are you going home, too?"

Ginny flashed Hermione a warning look, but her answer to Harry sounded genuine enough. "And miss playing with the team one last time? Besides, I didn't get that note. I'll be here for sure."

Draco had taken advantage of the talk around them to brush his hand against hers again, and her smile returned. It was almost enough to distract her thoughts, which were centered on something Ginny had said to her last night: '_I'll bet things get ugly this weekend. He's being called home.'_ What would happen to Ron?

They'd reached the base of Gryffindor tower, and Draco had no excuse to linger. As he passed her to continue on, he murmured, "You look peaked. I want you in bed."

She flushed vermillion. _Did he mean that as a double entendre? Mother of all magic, I think I hope he did . . ._ Draco didn't slow down or look back, but Hermione watched as a deep red shade suffused his retreating neck.

She followed her friends to the fireside couches in the commons, relieved when Ron slipped away with a flimsy excuse. For the rest of the evening, her mind was everywhere and nowhere, and Hermione was insensate to the sights and sounds around her.

The mental haze persisted until a series of odd sounds returned her to her surroundings. Harry and Luna were in the middle of . . . something . . . although Luna was the one who first noticed Hermione's return to awareness. The witch incorporated Hermione into her quiet conversation with Harry.

"Aah! Oh! please don't tease, Harry! There you are, 'Mione! Yeeessss! I wondered where you'd – mmmmmm - gone. Ooh, yes, like that! So clooooose!"

"I have a lot to think about, Lu."

"Yes - ooh! I suppose you – aah! – do. Unnngh, faster, Harry! You must be overwhelmed at – mmmmmm, so close! - times – ooooh, pleasepleaseplease – oh! Harry! Harry! Harry!" Here, Luna's breathy voice trailed off.

Harry was now inserting his glistening fingers into Ginny's mouth, watching as she sucked them clean. _This is how much I've changed in the past year. I'm having a conversation with one of my best friends while the boy who's like a brother to me fingers her to orgasm in a public place. And my most significant thought is how impressed I am that she remained coherent. Also that Lucius wants to do that to me. I think._

Harry entered the conversation at this point. "Anything in particular you're thinking about right now?"

He was lying back against the couch with his girls on either side of him. Luna's eyes were half-closed as she reached out to hold Hermione's hand. Ginny looked restless and Hermione realized that the show was only half over.

"I need to tell Ron, but I know it isn't the right time, and . . ."

"And Draco wants you to tell him immediately?' Luna supplied.

"Yes. And I want to do that for him, but I can't ignore this feeling that I should wait a bit longer."

"Draco will wait, but he might not be patient," chuckled Harry, "I'm sure he wants everyone, especially Ron, to know that you're off the market – that you're his."

"About that - I've had some conversations with Astoria Greengrass, because of—"

"Ginny interrupted, "Her binding to the House of Nott?"

"Yes. She's been explaining all sorts of things to me. She says it's natural that I respond to Draco the way I do, because I belong to him, and that I'll respond to Lucius the same way soon. I'm still trying to work through that _belonging to someone_ part."

Luna looked at Hermione sleepily. "From what my father's told me of the Malfoys, they're possessive of what they consider to be theirs. Perhaps you'd better resign yourself to belonging to someone sooner rather than later."

"I just really don't want either of them to go all prehistoric. Draco won't do that, will he?"

"He might, eventually, if you don't tell Ron," Ginny argued. "Still, would you rather have him take you for granted and ignore you like my idiot brother?"

Harry had begun tracing Ginny's nipple through her shirt. He was speaking to her, but loud enough for Hermione to hear. "I know how to get _you_ to respond naturally, witch. Shall I tease you? Make you beg for more?"

When Ginny began to moan, Hermione had had enough. "Right! Off to bed for me, then. Thanks for the company."

In the privacy of her room, Hermione let her thoughts run free. In them, Lucius was teasing her again, voice laced with innuendo, as they talked about his hands. Draco was kissing her hungrily on the picnic blanket, only this time their bodies were lying side by side. She walked to her mirror and looked at herself with scrutiny. _What do they see in me?_

The young witch removed her robes, remembering as she hung them up the flower from Lucius. Carefully she took it out of the pocket and set it in a glass of water by her bed. She stroked its petals gently. _Such an unusual color._

Hermione walked to her mirror and began slowly removing the rest of her clothing, never taking her eyes from her reflection. _Do they think my face is pretty? They both want to kiss me . . ._ here she brushed her fingertips across her lips, imagining being kissed by each of them. Her hand traveled to her cheek, remembering how Lucius had held it tenderly just this afternoon. _Does he think my skin is soft?_ The hand traveled down to her shoulders, feeling the delicate bones under her skin. _When Draco wrapped his hand here after I fainted, did he like the way it felt?_

She held her hands up before her, looking intently at the handmark on her left one. _What do they think when they see their mark on me?_ She clasped her hands, remembering the feeling of Lucius' large hand holding both of hers together. _Does he like being so much bigger and stronger than me?_ Her thoughts turned to Draco, and when they held hands. His hand dwarfed hers, too. _Is that attractive - to be little?_

Hermione lifted her other hand and brought them to her breasts. They were small and round. _Do they like my breasts? Draco likes it when my dragon pendant sits right here. I see him looking at it_. She traced that spot with a finger, then let her fingers trail down the shallow valley below it. She cupped her breasts with both hands, bringing her thumbs to stroke back and forth across her rose-colored nipples until they tightened into peaks. _My wizards will touch me just like this soon, teasing my flesh until it responds to their fingers. _

Her eyes were closed now as she felt a pleasant thrum of arousal pulse through her. She let one hand drift down her abdomen and ran her fingers softly over the trimmed hair of her mound before gently pressing into her seam. _What will it be like to be touched like this? What will it be like to touch them this way?_ Her body responded with a jolt as her fingers stroked back and forth, and she spread the sudden heavy wetness to her clit. Hermione's head fell back as she enjoyed the sensations and the images her mind was creating. She sank to the floor on her knees. _My pleasure will be theirs_. The hand still at her breasts plucked at her nipples as the fingers of her other hand rubbed more insistently.

She had touched herself experimentally before, to thoroughly catalogue her parts, but never felt a desire to go further. Now Hermione found herself pleading to some unknown entity for more . . . something, anything. She worked to learn her body's appetite as quickly as she could, but it took time to find the something more she wanted.

In her mind's eye she saw Draco sliding a dress from her shoulders and pulling her under the hot spray of a shower. He leaned down to lick the water droplets from her collarbones as she did the same to his chest. The idea morphed into that of Lucius in the water with her, pulling her back against his broad chest, and Hermione could almost feel the shape of his hands around her waist as he ran his mouth along the side of her neck. _He'd be aroused, and I'd feel his . . . I'd feel him pressing against me._

She envisioned herself stripped bare and laid back on a couch, and held from behind in Lucius' arms, his hand moving between her legs. She summoned the image of Draco now, mouth latched to one of her breasts as he tugged at the other with his hand. _I won't be able to be quiet – I'll beg and plead and moan and cry out, just like Luna. Only I'll be crying out MY wizards' names. _Her body broke out in to a light sweat as she imagined her wizards' hands in place of her own. Her imagination moved Lucius' mouth to her shoulder, nipping the skin, murmuring titillating promises; Draco's mouth came to hers, pushing his tongue past her lips in a way they hadn't yet done in reality. Hermione felt the beginning of a curling sensation deep inside of her, and she fought her way toward it, until it was replaced by a sharp electrical shock.

"No! No, no, nonononoonooooooooo!" She cried, realizing immediately what had happened. _It's that damn oath I took!_ Her body screamed for relief, and she could do nothing but cry in frustration. The words of Molly came back to her: _by the time of the ceremony you will be a needful, writhing mess. _ She collapsed in defeat and stayed there until the chill of the castle floor drove her to pull on her pyjamas and climb into bed.

Mercifully, sleep came quickly. Her last coherent thought was _I imagined the three of us together. Merlin and Circe, I liked it. I want to do it on a couch . . ._

Her dreams that night were vivid. In them, Draco's beautiful mouth covered her entire body with kisses while Lucius watched from the wingback chair. She awoke almost painfully aroused and without the ability to bring herself relief, which led her to being in a foul mood for most of the morning. One thought ran through her head constantly: _I wonder if my wizards are under these same restrictions._


	18. Chapter 18

**Well, ****_hello_**** Beautiful People! As usual, this is the last update for the week (and I will be editing this weekend, so don't jump to conclusions if your alerts go off before Monday evening). At the end of this chapter, you're all going to be chomping on the bit for action of some kind, no doubt. Patience, dear reader! Lucius can't just ditch his business obligations for the purpose of our story - he has an empire to run! He must remain chained for now! And because he's at school with our sweet heroine every day, it's only natural that Draco factors in a bit more at this point. Just you wait - next week will be . . .you'll see!**

**IpreferJasper: I love your review and just had to respond. Yes, I'm purposely weaving the two stories, one romantic and the other patently absurd . The main reason is that I'm just that silly. Coming in a close second (and if I were to be completely serious, it's the real main reason) is the argument that with such contrast between the two extreme story lines I have successfully gotten you all to swallow my AU and potentially controversial threesome. Yes, a whopping three-ish (can't remember exactly) people have said, 'It's completely unrealistic!' However, no one has challenged the actual plot involving covenants, war stakes, and multiple husbands. Mission accomplished.  
Your mention of those movies made me smile, because I do gravitate to absurdity on screen - Monty Python (you just know they would have had a heyday with the side story of Harry and the Girls) in particular.  
Of course, I also love the extremes of Harry and Hermione - and I would describe her tolerance of his proclivities as probably frog-in-a-pot syndrome, if you know what I mean, and possibly true naïveté. She knows what they're doing but isn't always thinking about what they're doing. Now that her wizards have awakened that side of her nature, she's realizing the bigger and often personal implications,  
Well! Did that make any sense? I'd love to hear more of your thoughts. Thanks again for the note. **

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 18 - Thursday

Early morning brought a note from Minerva, inviting her to another breakfast with Molly. _I wonder if Lucius talked to either of them about wedding plans._ She looked at her bedside clock and went to wake her redheaded friend. This time when Ginny went to find Harry, she didn't return. Instead, Hermione received a Galleon message: vry _bsy. 1 hr._ It seemed that Harry would be indisposed for some time, and so she fussed with her curls and face for a bit longer than usual. Ginny's recent loan of a book of beauty charms was coming in quite handy.

The end result wasn't dramatically different, but enough so to put an extra sway to her hips. When Harry finally stumbled down the stairs to the commons, robes in hand, he remarked on the sparkle in her eye. "Good dreams last night, 'Mione?"

Hermione smirked self-consciously and nodded. Then she took in her 'brother's' appearance and gave an exasperated noise. "Harry, I know you've had a busy morning, but for Merlin's sake please button and zip your trousers. And . . . turn your shirt the right way 'round."

"Will do." Harry grinned good-naturedly, and he complied as they left through the portrait hole entrance. Their trek took place in companionable silence today, and eventually she found herself being dropped off at the top of the steps to the Headmaster's office.

Molly and Minerva were already carrying on a lively conversation by the time she joined them. She quietly filled her plate, listening to the two witches gossip about the latest _Witch Weekly_ articles. Minerva had a penchant for a section called _Wizard Watch, _which highlighted the comings and goings of the wizarding world's favorite bachelors. Molly apparently favored _Which Witch_, a segment following the lives of wealthy celebrity witches. Hermione's thoughts began drifting elsewhere, but she was called to attention when Molly mentioned Lucius' name.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Hmmm? Oh, Lucius has just announced the development of a new species of rose from Malfoy Seed, to be marketed shortly. He hasn't published its name yet."

"What's Malfoy seed?"

Minerva spluttered into her tea. "It's what's going to fill you quite soon-"

"My dear!" interrupted Molly. "Have you never seen the breathtaking roses sold in Diagon Alley?"

Hermione was grateful for the reprieve. She didn't have to think hard to recall the vendor's cart in question. "Why, yes! I stop and drool over them each time I'm there. I've always wanted to buy one, but they're so . . . extravagant."_ And the kind of gift better received from someone other than oneself._ She'd always dreamed of getting one from Ron.

"Those are Malfoy roses, from the Malfoy Seed Establishment. It's been around for almost a thousand years! Lucius continues his family's talent for Herbology – he's quite the hobbyist. His flowers are known all over the wizarding world, and there are some that have only ever been grown at the Manor."

The curly-headed witch offered, "Lucius gave me a rose yesterday."

"Very romantic," said Minerva in an approving voice. "What color is it?"

"Blue," Hermione blushed and added, "The same shade as his eyes."

Minerva seemed disappointed. "I would have put money on them being deep orange!"

Molly tactfully ignored that and clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, how lovely! How lovely, sweetheart!"

"Yes, it is, " she agreed dreamily. "Errrr, _what's _lovely?"

"If I know Lucius, and I certainly do, he's spent these last few years developing a new rose in your honor! Such a perfect gesture to make to his bespoke witch!"

Hermione found Molly's syrupy interpretation to be slightly embarrassing. _Or, he could have stepped out to the garden and clipped the first flower he came across this morning._ She tried to direct the conversation in a different direction. "He and I talked about the wedding ceremony yesterday. He suggested I ask you two for help deciding details. I need to give him a list on Sunday."

The two older witches weren't surprised, and Hermione was led to believe that Lucius had indeed talked with at least one of them. In fact, Minerva summoned a conveniently located parchment and quill from a nearby table. Unsurprisingly, Molly took control at once. "All right! I'm sure the Malfoys have already discreetly invited a numerous amount of people, but you'll want to add to that list. Apart from that you'll need to decide how you'd like the tents decorated, and what food will be served to the guests. Now, as far as . . ."

Molly was the obvious choice for food planning. Not only was she an excellent cook herself, she had first-hand experience feeding a crowd. Hermione suggested Molly talk with Lucius about heading up that part.

"Have you thought about entertainment, dear?" Asked Minerva at some point. No, she hadn't.

"Because there's a very circumspect, very reputable company that hires out male—"

"How about a string quartet?" countered Hermione, hastily cutting Minerva off at the pass.

Hermione learned that an outdoor afternoon reception would come first, and it would undoubtedly involve a large guest list. It would last until the sun set completely, at which point guests would leave. The actual ceremony would only include Hermione, Lucius, and Draco, a Ministry official, and perhaps some select relatives.

"You'll want a good cocktail bar, with beer for the younger wizards and kiddie drinks for the children," advised her favorite professor. Hermione nodded politely. _My main priority is going to be keeping you sober and in possession of your dignity._

Molly and Minerva argued amongst themselves about tent choices and decorations, and completely forgot the bride-to-be in their excitement. She could have been offended, but the truth was Hermione realized she had very little interest in the planning after all. The long and the short of it was that Hermione decided to hand off the whole thing to the two older witches – actually, just to Molly. Her only stipulation was that, if possible, she wanted lots and lots of Lucius' beautiful blue roses. Molly agreed to send the completed list to Lucius herself.

Having delegated that concern, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Molly, what will happen to Ron this weekend?"

Molly looked startled. "How on earth do you- _Ginny_ told you, didn't she! I specifically asked her not to!"

"I just wondered . . ."

The motherly witch shook her head firmly. "Never you mind, dear."

The topic was obviously closed. Hermione struck out in a different direction entirely. "How do you know Lucius so well?"

That seemed a perfectly acceptable question, if she interpreted Molly's pleased smile correctly. "The Black family, dear."

"The only Blacks I know of are Sirius and Bellatrix. Where do they fit?"

"Bellatrix's sister was Narcissa Malfoy!"

"_You're joking!_ Even if that's true, I don't see how it explains my question."

"No, no, sweetheart – the Weasleys and the Blacks are related. Arthur and Narcissa were cousins, which makes Draco—"

Hermione made the connection and interrupted triumphantly, "Family! You're part of his extended family!"

"We certainly don't run in the same social circles, but we're related. Narcissa became the Malfoy house wife the year Bill turned seven. He was part of their ceremony." Molly had faraway look in her eyes as she spoke. "Of course, Lucius and Cissy were never at school with us – they were that much younger – but Arthur was always her favorite cousin. When she passed, we tried to look after Lucius and Draco as best we could. Yes, we're family."

This was all the validation Hermione needed to act on her intuition. Ignoring what could potentially be an awkward situation with Molly, she begged the two older witches, "Please, will you be my relatives at the wedding ceremony?"

Yes, they would, if their shocked and happy faces, Molly's streaked with some tears, meant anything. Molly gathered Hermione into her arms for a warm, motherly hug. Minerva patted her arm and nodded approvingly as she rapidly blinked her own watery eyes.

At the end of breakfast, Minerva gave her a note, and she recognized the expensive vellum at once. It simply read,

_My Lovely, I have been called to the States last minute. Regretfully, I must postpone our next visit until tomorrow night. Until then I remain yours, L._

_Mine_. _Why do I like that word so much_? She mentally calculated the hours until she saw him again. She pursued a daydream until Minerva cleared her throat meaningfully.

"Sorry, Minerva."

"I understand, dear girl. It's a note worth pondering. Now let's get you to class."

_She read my mail_._ Why am I not more upset that she read my mail?_ The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Dinner was another awkward dance of flirting with Draco and avoiding Ron while chattering away with Harry and his girls. Her wizard's eyes rarely left her during the meal; her skin felt hot under his stare. The fingers of her right hand toyed with her dragon charm between taking bites of her meal, and Draco watched with a smile on his beautiful lips. Hermione was perfecting the art of holding her fork with her robe-wrapped left hand, and fortunately no one seemed to think anything of her sloppy sleeves.

When dessert was served, he used the distraction to mouth the word _library_ as he shaped his hands like an opened book. Then he nodded in Harry's direction. Hermione needed no further encouragement. She turned to her brotherly friend immediately. "Harry, come to the library with me after dinner? I have an essay to write."

Ron butted in loudly, spewing chocolate cake crumbs from his mouth. "Oh, _come on_! How could you possibly have any homework? We're done – _free _ – and no one expects a thing from us. Besides, Harry owes me a game of chess."

Behind Ron, Draco looked up at the redheaded wizard with a dark look on his face. Hermione answered as politely as she could in the moment, "I think the choice is up to him."

Ron turned to Lavender Brown, who was draped over his shoulder. "I'll bet she can't find a boy other than Harry who'd want to meet her in the library! Go figure!"

Hermione felt a flare of irritation within. She quelled it with difficulty and turned back to Harry. She said playfully, "Pretty, pretty please come with me?"

Ron added loudly enough for everyone around to hear, "Yeah, that's what you should be doing, 'Mione. _Begging_. Don't hear that enough from you."

Harry seemed equally irritated with Ron. "Don't listen to him. Sure, I'll go to the library. The girls are off doing something anyway. Let's go."

Ron stood up from the table just in time to be jostled almost violently by a passing shoulder and was pushed forward into the remains of his dessert. Looking up to see who had accidentally pushed the redhead, Hermione saw Draco glance back over his shoulder and wink at her.

"Come on, 'Mione. I think we're done here," urged Harry. He threw a disgusted look in Ron's direction. As they were leaving the table, he added innocently, "I assume you'll want the arithmancy section?"

"_Yes_, Harry."

The Headmaster intercepted them as they were heading out the doors. "Miss Granger! A word, please?"

She followed him back to his office. On his desk there was another gift. This one was an armful-sized box wrapped in ornate green wrapping paper and tied with a silver bow. Hermione glanced from the box to Professor Dumbledore. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, my dear. Only, I promised Draco you wouldn't open it without him. You'll have to bring it to him for opening."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see him later tonight, actually."

"Such a gift might raise more questions than you're ready to answer as of yet. Perhaps we should give it a disguise?" As he suggested it, he transfigured the box into a copy of _Hogwarts: a History_. _How does he know I'm not ready to announce the binding? _

They walked to the door. "I took the liberty of summoning Mr. Potter. He should be here any time, now."

"Good night, professor, and thank you for . . ." _For what, exactly? Offering me as a prize? Offering the stake to me without making sure I understood its significance_? She finished in a much different tone of voice,"Errrr, thank you."

He paused, giving her a look that was full of understanding and completely devoid of apology. "You're most welcome, Miss Granger. And I do think, eventually, you will have reason to be truly thankful."


	19. Chapter 19

**Did you think I forgot? O Ye of little faith! I spent the last few hours smiling my widest, most PTA-approved smile at about a hundred million pre-kindergartners at our school's kindergarten open house. Merciful Merlin! I need a drink and a foot rub. Or at least some low-sodium, nitrate-free turkey jerkey (what? It's a guilt-free food, as long as you floss well).**

**Many thanks for all the sweet notes! Lots of new readers to thank, but in the interests of getting this out to you asap, I won't chitchat except to say that I will send you a note tonight, Honoria Granger! Your concern deserves my concern ;).**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 19 – Thursday Evening

Harry and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence, only talking when they reached the commons. He told her to send a Galleon message when she was ready, and headed toward the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

Back in her room, Hermione only stopped to brush her teeth, touch up what little makeup she wore, and smooth her curls. Sending Harry a 'ready' message, she grabbed the transfigured box and raced to the common room. Less than forty-five minutes later, she was dragging her friend through the library to their favorite seats. Once again, they had arrived before Draco. Hermione wandered off to find her favorite transfiguration reference work.

The book she was reading was ridiculously huge and heavy, and she opted to sit on the floor right by its shelf rather than drag it anywhere. _I'll only be a few minutes_. Soon she was lying flat on her stomach, knees bent and ankles crossed in the air. She was so involved in her notes that she didn't even notice Draco when he sat down beside her. She jumped visibly when he finally said, "What on earth are you doing, Miss Granger?"

"Oh! Just one more minute. Almost done."

The only sound was the scratching of her quill against parchment for a bit, and then she looked up. Draco was sitting beside her, his back to the bookshelf. He had one long leg stretched out beside her, and the other was bent at the knee. His elbows were perched on a lower shelf. _He's beautiful_.

"What are you working on?"

"Nothing, actually. I love this book, and it just occurred to me that I won't be able to enjoy it for much longer. I wanted to write down a few favorite parts."

Draco glanced at the cover of the tome as Hermione closed it. "Light reading?"

She laughed and sat up on her knees, putting them almost at the same level. The young wizard must have been waiting for that, because he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Hermione went to him gladly. "By the way, Professor Dumbledore gave me your present but said I was to wait to open it."

Draco lifted one eyebrow in a manner eerily similar to Lucius. "You don't happen to have it with you, I suppose?"

"Yes. When I told him we were meeting here, he transfigured it into a book for me. It's over there by my schoolbag." She started to get up.

"Stay here, and I'll get it." He tapped her on the head in emphasis, leaned forward at the waist and reached a long arm for it.

_He's so graceful. _Her eyes followed his every movement. Draco quickly reverted the gift back to its original form. As he performed _Finite_, Hermione's mind went elsewhere and she giggled. He looked at her questioningly.

"Oh, it's just that the, um, dress I wore to the stake acceptance was a transfigured silk scarf. Ginny warned me I'd end up looking like a house-elf in a hanky if anyone used that counter-spell. Good thing it wasn't part of the ceremony."

Draco eyes glazed for more than a few seconds, and she anxiously asked, "What's wrong?"

The young wizard blinked and processed her question. A slight flush rose in his cheeks and he dropped his eyes as he said, "I was imagining you in a green silk scarf. You didn't look at all like a house elf."

Hermione was blushing, too. "Thank you, I think."

He held the package out in front of her at face level. "Would you like your present now?"

She was momentarily distracted by the way his long hands wrapped around the box's angles. "Oh – yes, please."

Draco maneuvered his long body beside hers, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders so that he could help hold the box in her lap. Together they untied the bow and pulled off the paper. Hermione was having a hard time focusing on anything other than Draco at the moment, but she managed to remove the lid. There, under several layers of tissue, was a dark grey dress of heavy silk. The young witch touched the fabric reverently and then raised it up a few inches by the delicate shoulder straps.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

His breath tickled her ear. "The color will look lovely against your skin."

She turned her face to his, "I love it."

Hermione rose to stand, shaking out the folds in the storm-colored gown. She held it up against her torso and watched the way the light played against it, adding blue and deep purple flashes. The curly-headed witch looked down at her wizard with an awed expression.

"I've never owned anything so . . . "

Draco was reaching out to her, beckoning her back down to his side. She complied, and the two of them tucked the garment back into the box. He wrapped his arm around her again, reaching to hold her hand in his own. He murmured in her ear. "Wear it for our next visit. Please?"

_Even if I weren't overdosing on his scent right now, I don't think I could say no to him._ "Of course. Only, isn't it a bit fancy to wear during the day?"

"Perhaps here at school. If you don't want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself, you could Glamour it. Say you'll wear it for me."

He had been watching her lips as she talked, and Hermione knew he was thinking of kissing her. The thought made her almost giddy. "I'll wear it tomorrow. We _will_ have a visit then, won't we?"

He was leaning toward her, his gaze still on her mouth. "Undoubtedly."

He spoke the word against her lips and then pressed his mouth to hers. Hermione reached up to thread her fingers through his hair, and he gave a small, pleasurable moan. He was falling forward gently, pressing her to lean back toward the bookshelf behind her. Draco's left arm was still wrapped around her, holding her against his chest, and now his right arm braced against the floor at her far side. Hermione was having difficulty remembering to breathe, and she wrapped her arms around him and held on as if for dear life. When their lips finally met, they moved together in a succession of heated kisses.

Suddenly he broke from the kiss with a flinch and jumped away from her as though he'd received an electric shock. Hermione reached out a trembling hand toward him. "Are you all right? What was that?"

Draco was obviously trying to regain his composure, and remained silent with his head down. Finally he took an audible breath, and said shakily, "Rule number one."

"Rule number- OH. What . . . do you want to talk about it?" She stroked his head in a soothing manner.

"No. Yes." He paused again for a long time. "Rule number one might end up being the death of me. It states that I must never think of you disrespectfully when I'm with you."

"I can't imagine you being disrespectful to me, so I don't understand why you were pun—"

Draco silenced her with a shake of his head. He was blushing, but forced himself to explain, "I could never _act_ disrespectfully toward you. However, my mind has a way of straying from appropriate thoughts."

"How is that disrespectful?"

"Lucius explained that rule to me by saying that if I couldn't bring myself to say what I was thinking out loud in front of you, the thought was inappropriate and therefore disrespectful. He did _not_ warn me that it would be all but impossible to abide by it."

Her voice betrayed her confusion as she said, "I really don't see how that applies to-"

"Hermione." Draco dragged his hands through his hair, tugging at it, and it sounded as though he was driving himself to continue. "Before . . . I was thinking of what I wanted to do . . . _with_ you. _To_ you."

_He said my name. He said my name but I'm not ready to say his, yet. Not yet._ _And Sweet Circe, did he just say what I thought he . . . _"Oh," she whispered softly. She felt a burning blush spread over her face.

"But I can't bring myself to say it aloud, and so it's inappropriate," He said despondently. Draco briefly raised his eyes to hers before scrubbing a hand across his face.

"I know that I'm terribly naïve, but surely it can't be that bad." She couldn't seem to talk above a whisper. Draco might be experiencing a momentary lack of composure, but she was terrifying mix of confusion and mortification. _What does he want to do to me that he can't say out loud?_

"It isn't _bad_ at all. It's right, and natural, and inevitable, and when you're ready, it will be perfect. But I don't think you're nearly ready yet."

"Ready for what?"

He gave an agonized grimace and bit out, "To hear any of my sordid fantasies. I have been waiting for you for years. It only stands to reason that I've been imagining what it would be like when we were finally together."

_Sweet Merlin, he just admitted he's been having fantasies about me_. "I may not be ready yet, but I'm sure I will be soon. After all, we're getting married in less than ten days."

That seemed to reassure Draco, as did the kiss that Hermione impulsively pressed to his lips. He looked at her in amazement and brushed a curl from her face with his hand. "You're my witch."

"I am."

"Finally."

They stayed side by side, leaning against the bookshelf and each other for a long time, and there was no need for conversation. Harry finally hunted them down when the library was closing, and they left the library holding hands.

Back at the Gryffindor commons, she and Harry flopped down to play Exploding Snap for a while. Hermione wanted time away from her thoughts, and Harry apparently couldn't sleep without at least one witch in his bed. Either way, neither was ready to be alone, and the ensuing hilarity of dodging detonating cards was exactly what they both needed.

Halfway through their third game, Ron came down from the boys' dorms with his arm around Parvati Patil's waist. "Hi, Harry! What's up, 'Mione?"

Harry looked up with a somewhat forced smile, and Hermione waved her right hand, making sure her left one was sufficiently hidden. Ron disengaged himself from Parvati and walked over to his friends. "I'll play winner of this round. Mione, you're never around recently. Why's that, do you suppose?"

Hermione glanced at him and gave a shrug, then turned back to the game. "Hmmmmm. It's your turn, Harry." _Idiot!_

Ron sat down beside her and bumped his shoulder against hers. Hermione shifted slightly away from him and gave him what she was sure was an uncomfortable smile, then returned her focus to the game. He reached out toward her robe-wrapped left hand and said moodily, "You never spend any time with me any more, 'Mione. I miss you."

As his fingers made contact with the fabric-covered hand, Hermione snatched it away as if he had a case of Spattergroit.

"Don't!" She hissed angrily and added, "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

"What's wrong with you?" Ron whined, and then turned on Harry. "This has something to do with the way you two have been so cozy lately!"

"She's like a sister to me, and you know it, Ron." Harry looked toward Hermione and nodded his head toward the stairs to the girls' dorms. _Absolutely. I refuse to deal with him right now._ She called out a general 'good night'.

Ron ignored her and said loudly, "She's not joining your harem!"

The last thing she heard as she left the room was Harry. "Just _shut up_, Ron! You don't know _anything_!"

_Last week I would have gladly held his hand and listened to his excuses like they were lover's whispers. Now I can't stand the sight of him._ Hermione shuddered at the thought that she might have eventually married Ron if Lucius and Draco hadn't cast their stake early and unanimously.

Late that night, as Hermione lay in her bed thinking back over her evening with Draco, a lightning-bolt thought occurred to her. She sat upright in bed. _He only said he had to think of me respectfully when he was WITH me! He WAS . . . doing what Harry said . . . in the shower before our first library date!_

The imbalance of the courtship rules for her and her betrothed would have made her furious at any other time, but she had been assailed by a very . . ._disrespectful . . . _mental image of a beautiful, showering Draco, thinking of her while bringing himself to a powerful climax.


	20. Chapter 20

**Happy Tuesday, meine schöne Lieblinge. I was so very happy to hear from some of you last night and today - Alesia G, Silv3rfox, the parthenon, dutch potterfan, Cullens Darlin, and Brightki, to name a few.**

**Welcome to some newcomers, who also popped in to leave a kind word: CheRisHz, medward, punkyredhead, Sachmet, Lanetk, Maria Sven, Jarvia Elipton, and pianomouse - give yourself a hug from me, and pop in again soon!**

**Here's a challenge for all of you: post the House you've been/you think you'd be sorted into. I'll tally you all up and we can start a nice friendly rivalry. ) **

**Oh, and don't think I don't know about the rest of you lurking about the edges! Since I posted last night, there have been 1206 different readers who visited this story (and that's a low night compared to others)! Please, please, please - drop a review or a PM and join the party. It's absolutely painless, and so much fun.**

**Hmmm . . . I wonder what will happen in ****_this_**** chapter . . .**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 20 – Friday Morning

The next morning Hermione woke before the sun with a smile on her face, which was quickly replaced with a frown as she recalled what had happened in the commons the previous evening. _Was he always headed in this direction?_

She was glad she had left quickly, although the Gryffindor in her winced at what might be perceived as cowardice. On the contrary, in that blood-boiling moment she had physically bitten her tongue to keep from standing her ground and confronting Ron with his behavior. For a second, she'd wanted to show him the beautiful dragon on her hand and tell him everything. Then that same strong instinct had arisen – _not yet_, it had said with finality, and then she'd met Harry's eye and they'd exchanged that silent communication of strategy. It wasn't the right time for that conversation. When it did happen, it would most likely end a friendship – possibly two, if Harry took sides with her – forever.

_Last Thursday I accidentally changed the course of my life, and now, here I am thinking what a lucky thing that was._ Hermione would have dallied under her coverlet until her usual rising time, but she caught sight of the beautiful grey gown hanging from the door of her wardrobe. That was enough to have her springing out of bed and scrambling for her robe and shower caddy.

Half an hour later, she was back in her room carefully drying her curls with her wand. It was a fussy process but worth the effort, especially when she took the time to add a healthy dollop of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion (which she bought by the case). The end result was a silky head of spiraling curls that cascaded past her shoulders.

Satisfied with the resulting mass of ringlets, Hermione took off her robe and slipped into the set of underthings she'd bought to wear under her bottle-green dress. Ginny had insisted that every witch needed pretty knickers and a matching bra, and so Hermione had blushingly picked out a set in dark green satin. Wizarding lingerie styles were a bit behind those of the Muggle fashion world, and there was really nothing to blush about, when she thought about it now. The knickers covered her adequately, and the strapless demi-bra was lacy but certainly not naughty. It lifted her small round breasts up and pushed them together just enough to deepen the small valley between them, and she caught herself palming her breasts experimentally. She snatched her hands away at once. _ Let's not start that again!_

Finally, she took the grey silk dress from its hanger and stepped into it. Hermione looked into the mirror and saw a beautiful young stranger. She was garbed in an empire-waisted gown that hung from her shoulders by thin straps. The simple cut dipped just low enough in the front to reveal the tops of her breasts, which looked lush and full because of the bra's shaping. It ran like water down her torso to hug the curves of her figure and then flowed to her feet in undulating waves. _It's like wearing river-water._ Hermione turned, and the mirror-stranger's dress rippled and dappled in the light. She took a few steps, watching the way the heavy silk followed her movements in a delayed manner, making it seem as though she were moving through water._ I look lovely. And sexy. I want Draco and Lucius to see me in this dress._

She needed to show someone immediately, and ran to Ginny's room in hopes of finding her there. After much urgent knocking, the redheaded witch finally opened her door while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Mindful that the dorm was full of waking witches, Hermione tried to keep her voice to a loud whisper. "Oh, Gin – I'm so glad you're here! I was afraid you'd be in Harry's room."

Ginny hadn't opened her eyes enough to notice her friend's splendor. She said quietly, "Mmm-mmm. Ron pitches a fit when I sleep there, so Luna keeps Harry company most nights."

Hermione had had enough waiting. She shook Ginny to get her attention and twirled in front of her. She whispered, "Draco gave it to me! Isn't it gorgeous? He asked me to wear it today for the visit!"

Ginny was immediately awake and suitably impressed. "Gorgeous is right! _Mother of magic_."

She was looking at Hermione critically. "You need to put on a bit of makeup – but just a bit – so that you're wearing the gown and not the other way around. Can you manage that on your own?"

Hermione thought she could.

"Good. Oh, and—" Here her friend looked up and down the corridor and then dragged Hermione back to her own room. "You're going to have to glamour that just a bit unless you're going for full and immediate disclosure of the courtship."

"Yes, I know, but not until I have absolutely _have to_. I feel like a princess."

Ginny smirked. "That's because you're wearing a gown that probably cost as much as my parents' house."

Hermione gave her friend an impulsive hug. "Thank you, Gin, for everything. I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd be a wreck, believe me, I know. And you're welcome. Now hurry up and disguise that thing before someone sees it!"

When the two girls met Harry and Luna in the commons, it looked as though Hermione was wearing her school uniform under her robes, but she had a little more makeup on than usual, and her honey-colored curls were elaborately piled and pinned up by her silver hair comb. Luna noticed right away. "Look, Harry! Hermione looks like a princess in disguise today, doesn't she?"

Harry glanced at Hermione and responded, "'Mione always looks like a princess.", but he looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. She smiled and shook her head. It had been enough to share her secret with Ginny. She was looking forward to keeping it to herself now until the glamour came off for the visit.

Her friends dropped her off at the Headmaster's office on their way to the great hall. The sound of Molly Weasley's strident laughter met her ears when she entered. As she closed the door behind her, she processed the distinctly girlish giggle of Astoria, followed by an exclamation from Minerva. _Great and Merciful Merlin, no good can come of those three together in one room._ Hermione approached the table with trepidation.

Molly was in the middle of an anecdote involving her, two of her husbands, and a garden swing. Hermione decided to take control of the conversation _immediately_. "We are absolutely _not_ discussing anything even remotely capable of making me blush this morning."

Astoria argued, "But Hermione, Mrs. Weasley has a wealth of information regarding sex!"

"Which is something I'd rather not talk about!" _At least, with these two listening in._

"Good morning, sweetheart! Let's get you some tea and something to eat. That should shake you out of that grouchy mood!" Molly's voice had taken on the tone one would use with a petulant child, and she was filling a plate as if Hermione were indeed five years old.

"Errr, thank you Molly, but I can do that myself."

"Nonsense! How many more opportunities will I have to coddle you, Hermione? Next week you'll be married off to Lucius and Draco and the next I see you, you'll be all grown up."

"I'm quite grown up now, thank you." Hermione looked up, eyes narrowed, ready to say something she knew she'd regret later, but noticed tears in Molly's eyes.

All fight left her, and she asked in concern, "What's wrong, Molly?"

The motherly witch tried to smile even as her chin trembled. She leaned forward to pat Hermione's hand. "This was supposed to have gone differently – or at least, I thought so. You were going to be my daughter, and be married to Bill and Charlie and Percy, or Fred and George and Ron. Arthur and I were taking bets on whom you'd choose."

Molly laughed tearfully as she said, "I was sure you'd end up with Bill and Charlie. They're both such wonderful men! Arthur leaned toward the twins. And the oldest two sat the twins down two Christmases ago to talk about a possible merger."

Hermione thought back to her conversation with Ginny, and her initial question about the possibility of having to marry six husbands. _I can't believe I thought that was a possibility – of course there'd be a split! More than four husbands would be ridiculous, and actually two is perfect. _She realized how far she'd been stretched in the past week. _I remember how appalled I was at the idea of two husbands not that long ago – and now listen to me!_

Molly continued, "I imagined a lifetime of meals just like this one. Now we have a little more than a week before you're gone. Please, Hermione – please let me take care of you until then, sweetheart."

Of course Hermione relented. However, Molly's idea of taking care of her involved keeping her plate and cup constantly full and worrying that she looked a bit on the thin side. After the fifth such comment and the eighth offer of another scone, Hermione fell into the older witch's clever trap. At least, that's how it seemed in hindsight.

It started with Minerva remarking to Molly as an aside that Ginny would probably need more underthings soon, as Harry had a habit of tearing off her knickers and leaving them wherever they happened to land. Molly laughed behind her hand and started to reply, then turned to Hermione with a contrite look. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot about your topic rule!"

Hermione was feeling generous because Molly had forgotten to refill her plate, and said, "Please don't mind me, Molly. I was being over-sensitive."

That was all it took for the conversation to, in Hermione's opinion, devolve. One Harry story led to three, Minerva added whiskey to her coffee, and her new blonde friend showed exactly how uninhibited she truly was. Apparently things were progressing far more quickly within the impending Nott household, and by _things_ she meant acts which she considered to fall under the category of 'perversion'. In fact, Hermione mentally dubbed the three wizards the Notties, and several minutes later amended that to the Kinkies.

"Wait! Astoria, I know I said I didn't mind talking about . . . errrrr . . . _sex_, but I honestly don't even think most of what your wizards seem to enjoy is mainstream. Could you, ummmmm, stick to talking about normal sex? _I cannot believe that asking that feels like the safer choice with these three._

"Oh! Of course, Hermione - I sometimes don't think about how different our wizards might be," her friend giggled, and then asked Molly for advice on oral sex. And, of course, Molly wanted specifics.

"We started a few days ago. I asked Theodore if I could do something to please him especially, and he showed me how to take him in my mouth. I like doing it, but no matter how many times I try, it seems like I'll never get it right."

Molly was very sympathetic. "Oh yes, I remember how I struggled with that. Septimus taught me oral sex – I think it's a very fitting lesson for the oldest husband to teach. You just keep practicing. I'm sure Theodore knows you want to please him, and will be patient. Don't forget, dear – wizards enjoy a blow job regardless of the skill level – it all feels good!"

_I don't want to know._ Hermione was blushing so deeply that she could feel the heat rolling off her face, but Molly and Astoria were relentless.

"I can't help but gag a lot. It's not the message I want to sent to my wizards!"

"You've got to relax your throat, sweetheart. It takes practice."

_Oh, sweet Circe, please don't . . ._

"I can with Theodore, but Nick and Theo thrust so deep and fast right away!"

_Too much information!_

"They're boys, that's the difference. This is all new to them, and they're eager to enjoy your services. In time they'll find their control, and then you'll be able to take them down like a pro."

_Please let that satisfy Astoria! Please, let's talk about something – anything - other than blowjobs!_

Astoria was indeed satisfied, but now wanted to know what Molly thought of sex toys and light bondage. That was enough to send Hermione bolting from her chair. "Oh, look at the time! Sorry, but I must get to my first class immediately. Minerva, would you mind . . .?"

Minerva reluctantly left the table, practically dragged out of the room by Hermione. The lack of erotic conversation seemed to bring the professor out of her haze, and she remembered to remind the young witch that there would be a visit after dinner. Not that she'd forgotten - Lucius' note had been tucked in her pocket since she'd received it yesterday, and every so often she ran her fingers over its shape in anticipation.

Hermione felt Draco's eyes on her wherever she went. In Herbology, he made several trips past her table to the storeroom. Each time he passed, his gaze traveled over her and lingered on her hair and robes, and she knew he was wondering about what she wore. It seemed like the stretch of air between them crackled with heat and magic. She'd never seen such an intense look on his face, and felt her body responding to it. _Sweet Circe, my knickers are completely soaked and he hasn't even touched me._

Hermione wondered how he managed to navigate the classroom without ever watching where he was going. On his fourth trip, Professor Sprout reminded him kindly to bring a pot back with him to his station. On the way out of the classroom, Draco bent to her ear as he passed and asked quietly, "Are you wearing my dress?"

She blushed and called out, "Yes!" to his already retreating form.

Ron was really an arse at lunch. He had begun to take offense to every thing Hermione did, said, and wore. She ate her meal as quickly as possible, keeping her marked left hand in her lap the whole time. _I'm not afraid to tell him in the slightest - but with the way he's been acting, he doesn't deserve to know! Besides, he'll only be a troll about it. Only he could be so completely clueless. What did I find attractive about him?_ She knew that Draco was listening, and tried her best to avoid eye contact with him. It was impossible, and when she finally caved and glanced his way he winked at her and smiled. That was enough to carry her through the rest of Ron's horridness.

She, Harry, and Luna left the table as soon as they could, leaving Ginny with her brother. Hermione was tempted to feel badly about that until Harry reminded her that, really, they were doing Ginny a favor - it was the perfect opportunity for her to screech at someone without having guilt later.

The afternoon dragged on, and Hermione was relieved when her last class was dismissed early. She decided to pass the time with a nap. In the haven of her room, she flopped down across her bed and stared at the ceiling for a long while. Eventually she fell asleep. Her dreams were vivid. In them, she danced with Ron at the Slytherin house party as Draco watched from a short distance. She felt Draco's eyes burning against her skin, and in her dream-state it felt rational to control the searing heat of his gaze by removing her dress. It dropped to the floor and she saw Ron's gaze turn predatory and his hands shoot out to grope her bare body, just as she felt the cool rough fabric of a robe falling over her. Large, gentle, familiar hands wrapped the fabric around her and scooped her up like a baby. Then she was in a dark forest, and it was night. The savage calls of Death Eaters rang around her, and she was running for her life. Suddenly there was a shadowy man-shape standing between her and the enemy, and the shape was pulling her behind it protectively.

_"You shall not touch her!" _The man-shape called out in a soft husky voice, to which the Death Eaters responded by questioning its authority.

There was another man-shaped shadow beside the first one now. It answered the Death Eaters in a rich baritone._ "She is ours. Do you not see our mark on her skin?_" At this, the robe was pulled from her bare form, and two sets of large hands kept her from covering herself. Dream-Hermione looked down upon herself and saw a strange mark, like a rune, on the soft skin above her right breast. The Death Eaters screamed out in frustration and then in their place stood Ron, his face curled in a sneer that was both hateful and lascivious.

_"Take your hands off her! She's mine!" _The Ron in Hermione's dream raked his eyes over her figure lewdly, and the shadow men draped the robe back around her.

_"You made no claim, Pureblood, and now she is the prize of another house."_

_"No! She was meant to be mine! My brothers placed war-stakes on her; I am the only one of my family who has not. I will not until it is the last option!"_

Dream-Hermione gasped at this admission, and Ron's face morphed into horror as he realized what he had said in front of her. The shadow-men stood on either side of her now, towering over her diminutive size. Their hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she felt comfort and strength trickling down through her skin and into her entire body.

_You do not want her for yourself, yet you would keep her from those who do. You are the lowest of men. Leave and do not trouble us again."_

Hermione woke slowly, and the dream played about in her head over and over. She thought of the years she had waited for Ron, and the many girls he had pursued and enjoyed openly while stringing her along with occasional smiles and hand holding. How many nights had she left the house common room crushed that it was some other girl, and not her, snuggled up with him before the fireplace?

Then she thought of Draco, of his solemn care and courtesy, and of the many times he had hovered nearby and yet just out of her line of sight. She remembered him taking the firewhiskey from her sternly at the Gryffindor party, and intercepting her attempts at flirting with Ron. Both times, she realized now, he had been acting out of concern for the witch he already considered his own. She had never seen him with another girl, never heard any rumors about one, either. He had given her his first kiss. They had only just met, really, and yet their relationship seemed . . . bespoke. Each kiss he had both taken and given came to mind, and replayed over and over again for a long time. Once again, Hermione found her heart racing.

Draco was exactly the sort of man she had wanted Ron to be – passionate but tender, protective and proud of her. The fact that she was marrying him next week might be an accident, but it was a happy one. And Astoria was right – Hermione knew in her heart that this was meant to be, and that she would never have rejected the war-stake in the end.

She wanted this young wizard in a way that was new and slightly terrifying. She wanted to kiss him and touch him – and to be kissed and touched in return. She could imagine them wrapped passionately around each other in a large bed, in a shower, on a table, on a couch –Harry's sexcapades were proving useful, as she re-cast each of them with her and Draco in the lead roles. Hermione felt a burn of desire wash over her. _I want to finger feed him pudding and lick his mouth. And take him in my hand and bring him to climax at the lunch table. And feel his fingers slide inside of me, teasing me until I beg for –_

She shook herself from that course of thought. It would only wind her up.

Lucius came to mind. The thought of marrying a man nearly twenty years her senior had unnerved her at first, especially one as sophisticated and confident as him. Yet from the first time he'd sat her on his knee, his large hands had been warm and gentle on her waist, and his beautiful voice had been quiet in her ear. His solicitude extended to the attentive way he listened to her conversation, and to his teasing manner, which he used to keep the more intense side of his personality from frightening her away.

She had been caught and held captive at Malfoy Manor toward the end of the war. The Death Eaters had thrown her to the ground before Lucius and left the room at his command. As she had lain there, bleeding and sure of her impending death, he had frowned at her, and in the moment she thought he was plotting her torture. But then he had placed a disillusionment charm on her and whisked her to the deepest dungeon possible beneath the old house. There, cold and hungry but blessedly untouched, she had waited out her rescue. Even then, it seemed that he had been concerned for her safety, because Hermione was certain that by sentencing her to such misery, Lucius Malfoy had saved her life.

And three years ago, when she had escaped from his dungeon, he had left the subterfuge of being a double agent. He (and Draco) had cast a war-stake for her and openly joined the fight against the Dark Lord merely because the opposing side - the _good_ side - was willing to promise her hand to the house of Malfoy in exchange.

He would make an excellent husband. She was sure of this even though they had only just met. He would be the sort of man who cared for her needs and wellbeing; who sought to make her comfortable, even though, for now, that meant tempering his own personality. He would love her, and she would most certainly learn to love him. And she wanted to do all the things she had just imagined doing with Draco with him, as well. The thought of being with him sent a frisson of desire through her body.

Lucius was a dominant wizard, and Hermione knew without a doubt that she would submit to him at times. He would, no doubt, teach her the kinds of things that Theodore was teaching Astoria. '_He taught me how to take him in my mouth,' _her friend had said. Here in her room, without the embarrassment of voicing these private thoughts aloud with the likes of Molly and Minerva, Hermione found that the idea of pleasing Lucius in such a way was incredibly arousing.

_Lucius and Draco are my wizards. Mine. It's time to tell Ron, and time to stop hiding my betrothal from everyone else as well._ _It's time to call Draco and Lucius by name, and to stop being so embarrassed about everything. It's time to be the witch I was meant to be._


	21. Chapter 21

**Bon mercredi, mes amis! Sweet Circe, but you are a fun, lively crew! Thank you very much for the notes! I'm still workingon responding to all of you. Watch your PMs!**

**House sorting (mostly done by PM, interestingly enough): 35 Gryffindors checked in (figures), as did 12 Ravenclaws (most asked for the latest statistics). A very few fellow Slytherins hinted at their placement in that house, but only two actually wrote the word down (the ever tenacious plot-guesser Gracie Laufey and medward, who may or may not actually be Slytherin. Sounds very Slytherin to me.), so that leaves the three of us to take on a whole bunch of closet Hufflepuffs, I guess! Just kidding. Thanks for playing my game.**

**Notes: **

**fansick - glad you giggled at Molly's surprising vocabulary.**

**PLacIDwiCkedNEss - 'Notties' came to me while I was brushing my teeth and I choked on toothpaste.**

**marianna79 - that was my fave line, too!**

**Grove26 - I'd very much like to go back when this is all done and write a bunch of chapters from other povs - especially the Weasley family meeting. I won't spread myself too thin right now, but it's something to look forward to!**

**Leave a note when you have a chance - I'd love to hear from you!**

**BIG HUGE NOTE: this isn't beta'd! If bunnyhops sends this back to me with huge x's and red notes all over the place, I'll let you know right away so you can go back and read her approved version. She really is amazing.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Chapter 21 – Friday Evening

It was time for dinner, according to her growling stomach. She sent a quick Galleon message to Harry, stretched, and got up to make herself presentable. Gone forever was the Hermione who didn't care what she looked like. In her place was a new creature, not yet completely self-assured but certainly not timid. Her natural confidence, which had been ebbing for most of the past week, surged forth.

Hermione waved her wand in the direction of her nap-wrinkled clothes and set them to rights with a simple grooming charm. She touched up her make-up, and then re-piled her hair on her head and secured it with the beautiful, emerald-studded silver comb. On impulse she dropped her glamour to reveal the breathtaking dress beneath – the one she that she had been planning to conceal until the after-dinner visit with her wizards. As she was about to leave her room, Hermione looked at herself one last time in the mirror and was shocked by how much she had changed in a week. She looked . . . no fitting word came to her mind.

She looked _something_, whatever that something was, judging by some lingering looks from the other students as she and Harry swept into the great hall. Her longest school robes covered most of the gown, showing just an inch or two of the rich silk fabric that covered her feet. Hermione made her way over to the Gryffindor table as quickly as possible. Ginny and Luna were already there, and Ginny grinned at her as she sat down.

"'Lo, 'Mione. Hot date tonight? Who's the lucky Malfoy?" Her friend asked sotto voice.

"Shut it, you!" She snapped, but she was grinning.

Ron was seated a few places down at the table, his arm thrown around Lavender Brown's shoulders, but his smile turned to a frown when he saw Hermione.

"Oi! 'Mione! What are you doing all tarted up? You don't even look like yourself!"

She raised her startled face to meet Ron's, and in the process saw that Draco was watching warily from the Slytherin table just behind Ron's back. _This is what I get for not seeing Ron for what he actually was years ago and putting him in his place - back when I knew he was an idiot_ _and could punch him without worrying about the Malfoy reputation! _She fumed inwardly. And took the high road.

"Hello, _Mr._ _Weasley_. Pass the rolls, please?

Ron Weasley's face was slowly turning an ugly shade of red, and it looked as though steam was threatening to blow from his ears. "Hermione! You really should go and wash your face. Who're you trying to impress, anyway?"

She flushed from the unwanted, demeaning attention and knew that Draco was hearing every loud word Ron said. In fact, judging by the silence that was falling around them, a lot of people were hearing Ron. She tried to keep her voice steady and firm as she replied, "Please, just stop. You have no right to say any such thing to me. You're not my brother, and you're not my boyfriend. Now, are you going to pass the rolls or not?"

The redheaded wizard grabbed at the basket of rolls nearest him, and shoved them toward Hermione so that they spilled everywhere. She jumped up from the table to avoid the buttered bread, and Ron noticed as her robes parted and revealed her gown.

"_Merlin_, 'Mione! Go and put your regular clothes on, will you?! You're done up like a Knockturn Alley slag tonight!"

Harry chose at this moment to step in. He looked appalled. "Come on, Ron! She looks nice. This is our Hermione we're talking about, mate! She could never look like a . . . like _that!"_

"Says the Boy With His Hands up Two Skirts! Stay out of it, Potter!" Ron's voice was even louder now, and Hermione knew that the time had finally arrived. She stood, letting her school robes slide from her shoulders, and spoke to Ron, pointing at him with her left hand. It brought her handmark to his attention for the first time. There were audible gasps, and the sound of whispering broke out at the tables nearest her.

"Leave Harry alone. He's done nothing wrong, and neither have I for that matter!" She spoke in a quiet, deadly voice, but it seemed to carry to many ears.

Ron was staring at the beautiful dragon marking. Now that she had removed her robes, it could be seen twisting from her ring finger, around her hand, and up her forearm. He stood now, too, raging, and he left any pretense of a private conversation behind as he began shouting at Hermione.

"You cow! You bitch! You were supposed to be mine after school! Haven't I made that clear enough for you? You were supposed to WAIT!"

Hermione's eyes stung with furious tears. _How could he?!_ _After nearly eight years spent side-by-side, after everything we've done, and seen, and been through together - even if he weren't suggesting he'd had expectations that we would be together, how could he talk to me like this?_

The entire student body had grown silent at Ron's outburst. The teachers watched gravely from the dais. She felt rather than saw Draco approaching from her right, and gave a small shudder of relief when she felt his hand glide across the silk of her dress and come to rest in the small of her back. He stood there quietly as she absorbed the strength lent by his presence. Finally her chin came up. Her voice was clear and carried for quite a distance. "You made no claim, and now I am the prize of another House."

She heard Draco give a deep sigh and then let him direct her toward the back of the great hall, toward the doors. Halfway there, he broke away and walked back to the Gryffindor table. He leaned aggressively over the table over Ron and spoke quietly. Ron cringed away from him and whatever he had said. Draco was frozen in a striking position of dominance for several moments with his wand drawn on Ron, perhaps waiting for a sign that his words had hit their mark. The redhead finally dropped his eyes in submission.

"Draco." _Did I say that?_ It couldn't have been very loud if she had, but then again the great hall was almost completely silent. The blond wizard turned his head toward her slowly. Hermione held out her left hand to him, leaving it raised and outstretched for everyone to see.

Draco was still immobile, leaned over Ron, but looking at her. She said his name again, louder this time, and couldn't help smiling when he abruptly straightened up and glided across the room to her. _He's dangerous. Just not to me._ His eyes locked on hers and Hermione forgot everything else. He reached her, his large form shielding her from the bulk of the student body. A feeling of precognition washed over her. _This is how it will be. He'll allow me to defend myself because he knows I need that, and he'll protect me because that's what he needs._

"Shall we go?"

His usually soft, husky voice was deeper and laced with adrenaline. Draco once again placed his hand on the small of her back and turned her in the direction of the doors. They left the silent hall behind them.

The two paused outside in the castle entry, suddenly aware that they were breaking the most important rule of the courtship by being alone together. Draco stepped away from her awkwardly.

"We should wait here for the Headmaster. I'm sure someone's on their way now."

"I could—"

Draco raised an eloquent eyebrow as he cut her off. "I don't think letting you out of my sight is a good idea. You've gotten yourself in enough trouble tonight already, and that was with me at your side."

_He's teasing me! Oh, Merlin - he's twinkling at me, too!_ She swooned a little, and Draco's handsome face became smug when he realized this. They stood far across the entry from each other until Harry rescued them about five minutes later, barging noisily through the doors as if to give them warning of his approach.

He was grinning. "That was quite a scene you two made. Sorry I didn't come right away, but it was shepherd's pie for the main course, and that's no good cold. Just had to finish up quick. I'm to escort the two of you to the kitchen so that you can eat something before your visit – Dumbledore's request."

Hermione hugged him fiercely. "I hope you get lots and lots of extra kinky sex tonight from the girls, Harry."

She remembered Draco was within earshot, and blushed as she stole a peek from the corner of her eyes. He was blushing and shaking his head as if to rid himself of a thought. _I'll bet he's trying to follow Rule Number 1_._ I wonder what he's thinking that he doesn't want to tell me._

The house elves seemed to have been expecting them, and had food set out on a table away from the hustle and bustle of the workspaces. Draco spoke briefly with Harry before he left, arranging for him to meet Hermione at the Headmaster's office at a specific time, and her friend was off like a shot.

When the meal had been eaten and the table cleared, Draco and Hermione gravitated to standing close together. He held her hands at her sides and bent to speak close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath tickling it.

"Hermione, what you said in there - it was . . ."

"Oh, Draco! I'm so sorry if it was inappropriate! It's just that-"

He put a warm finger against her mouth, effectively silencing her. "Not inappropriate. Very appropriate. Very . . .very . . ." Words seemed to fail him, and so in their place he showed her exactly how _very very _her short speech had been. He kissed her thoroughly, wrapping his hands around her sides and sliding his fingers softly along the silk of her gown.

He pulled away slightly and smiled the small, lopsided half-smile that she was coming to adore.

"Also _ very very_ – you calling me by my given name." He kissed her again and she moaned against his lips. Their lips repeated the same pleasing motion for some time.

"Hermione."

"Mmmhmm?" _Is this another one of my Malfoy-induced dreams? If I open my eyes, will I find myself tucked in bed? Better keep them closed, just in case._

He was placing soft kisses on her cheeks now, and his hands were leaving her sides. She heard a little whining noise, and wondered who had made it. Draco's husky chuckle caused her eyes to fly open then. It had come from her!She flushed, and he watched the color spread over her face.

"I like your noises," he whispered and stepped back to a respectful distance, "but we should go. I'm sure Lucius is here by now."

A house elf accompanied them through the castle on their way to the Headmaster's office. Hermione wrapped herself in one of Draco's arms and walked with her head leaning against his side. She held his hand in both of hers, clutching it to her chest. Draco didn't seem to mind her sudden proprietary use of his body, and she wondered eventually if it had anything to do with the fact that his hand was, in essence, supporting the slight weight of one of her breasts.

"Hermione."

"Yes?"

Wear my scarf at the game."

"Yes."

"And go with me to the celebration in the village."

"Can we . . . is that okay to do?"

She could hear the smile I his voice. "Well if you're worried that someone might notice, it's rather too late for that."

"Then, yes."

"And then go with me to the Ravenclaw party tomorrow night."

"I'd love to, but . . ."

"I see. Already made plans with another wizard?"

She gave a peal of buoyant laughter. "I was thinking about chaperones, and rules, and all that."

"Ask Harry if he plans to attend. If he is, we'll be fine."

They walked a few minutes in silence.

"Hermione."

"Yes, Draco?" She looked up to see him smiling.

"I just wanted to hear you say it again."

They walked the rest of the way in happy silence.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hi Everyone! **

**Notes:**

**SaileachShilte - don't fret; our little Hermione won't shed her blushing innocence in one fell swoop. Just because Hermione says she's not going to be embarrassed doesn't mean anything other than she wants to grow up. ****_If you know what I mean. _****You're right - that ****_would_**** be a bit sudden. Also, the Slytherins have shed their reticence and are banding together (I think they took offense at being called Hufflepuffs), bringing our ranks to 10. I did love your Austen misquote and agree!**

**Peachymom, Grovek26, the parthenon, missmaryliz, kelbelz, and dutch potterfan - hugs and kisses to you! **

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews and PMs. I'm still working on getting back to those of you with questions.**

**Now, about this chapter: I know some of you take issue with the fact that this AU of mine involves some rather archaic views of women and marriage. What can I say - I like playing with fire. If you don't like the fact that standards are double and Hermione has to answer to her wizards in some matters, please send all rants to glittergrrrl05.**

**yes - bunnyhops has run through it with a fine-toothed comb, so hooray! No real changes (other than adding a space and deleting a dash) were made to last chapter.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 22 – Friday Evening

The visit was shorter than previous ones. Lucius was obviously exhausted, although he treated Hermione with the same lavish courtesy as always. When he led her to their chair in the alcove, she climbed into his lap before he even was fully seated. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but her beautiful gown worked against her efforts. The glassy texture of the heavy silk caused her to slip from her perch on his thigh and slide down into his lap further, her bum firmly wedged against his groin and her back arched over his arm. He shifted so that her head was in the crook of his arm, which rested on the arm of the chair. She found herself looking directly up into the handsome face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

The weariness fell from Lucius' face, and he held her in this awkward position with obvious enjoyment. She watched him run his eyes from her face down to her breasts, which were even more exposed in this position, and her breath sped up when he held his gaze there. Leaning down toward her, he removed the hand that secured her and used it to trace the strap of her dress from her shoulder to the top of her breast. She could feel the slight pressure of his fingertip against her skin. He leaned down even further.

"Lady, the things I will do to you . . . I am planning even now," he murmured. His finger traced the strap back up to her shoulder.

Hermione was frozen in place. She could only watch him as he raised his eyes to hers. Then her curiosity kicked in. "What about Rule Number One?"

He smiled indulgently at her. "And how does that apply, my prize?"

"You can't think something in my presence unless you can say it out loud to me."

"That is Draco's first rule, and as such does not apply to me. I am more than willing to share my desires if you are ready to hear them." Lucius' finger was tracing the strap of her gown again, shoulder to breast and back up, repeatedly.

"What do you think, my lovely? Would you like to hear how I plan to take your innocence, how I will corrupt you? I could start with my thoughts of you in this intoxicating gown." Lucius' forefinger had strayed from the silk strap and ghosted over the small swell of her breast that, at this ridiculous angle, threatened to spill from the neckline.

"I . . ." A very small part of her wanted to say _yes, tell me_. However, the greater part of Hermione was suddenly terrified, and her heart began racing under Lucius' fingertip.

He chuckled. "I have my answer. Otherwise I would enjoy nothing more than to have you squirm in my lap."

He lifted her back to her usual spot, tucked under his chin, and she filled her lungs with his scent. "Do you have rules, sir?"

His hand was tracing circles in the silk along her back. "Indeed. The most important of which is never to frighten you. Do you understand, now?"

"Oh - before, yes. You knew I wasn't ready to hear your . . . "

Lucius chuckled again. He raised his hand to catch her chin gently, and he pulled it up so that she was forced to look at him. "Truly I have won an ingénue. My fantasies, pet. That's the word, isn't it? Say it."

She blushed deeply and repeated the word in a whisper as he ran his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip.

Even her embarrassment couldn't quell her curiosity, and soon (from the safe hiding place between his jaw and shoulder) she asked, "Who made the rules for us, and why are they all different?"

"Draco and I set them. He knows me better than anyone else, and so he chose rules for me which are in keeping with my temperament. I did the same for him."

"So, you aren't to frighten me, and he isn't to be disrespectful."

Lucius gave a rich laugh. "That young man needs to be kept on his toes. He's spent far too much time fantasizing about you. He should be talking with you, not hiding in his head."

The explanation so far made sense to Hermione. She continued, "Who set the rules for me?"

"We both did, of course."

"So your priority was to . . . "

"To preserve your virtue until the eve of our wedding. It remains our priority, which is why we suffer through meeting in this infernal office."

"And why Harry has to be with me all the time. I want to give him something, a gift in gratitude of his time, only I can't think of anything."

Lucius kissed the top of her head. "Allow me to do this for you. I will talk with Draco to see if he can help think of something fitting."

She lifted her head to protest, but Lucius was unbending. "Consider it done."

After that, they fell into comfortable silence. He ran his fingers through her curls and then traced patterns on her back. _Astoria was right – I think I might actually purr, it feels sooo good. I wonder if he would like to be touched like this_. That last thought wasn't as daunting as it could have been, and for the first time she reached to touch his pale blonde hair. As usual, it was pulled away from his face, bound with a black leather cord, and fell over his shoulder in a long queue.

Hermione stroked the length of it and then twirled it around her finger experimentally. _It's as silky as my dress_. Lucius closed his eyes in appreciation as she gently played with his hair. On impulse, she stretched up and pressed a kiss to his chin. Eyes still closed, he smiled. "If you were aiming for my cheek you've missed your mark, pet."

"My aim seems to be getting worse every day."

"Perhaps you should try again."

"Tomorrow. Come to me tomorrow morning, and I will," she whispered, with her mouth still close to his jaw. It sounded very much like a promise even to her ears. Not long after he bade her goodnight, trailing a line of lingering kisses along the length of her handmark.

Draco was waiting impatiently for her by the Headmaster's desk. He took her hand after she had walked Lucius out, and dragged her back to the alcove. He didn't bother to transfigure the chair, but sank into it and pulled her down into his lap impatiently.

Hermione laughed. "You act like we didn't just have dinner together!"

He kissed her several times in answer. "That was at least half an hour ago."

The young witch raised her hand to his fair hair and ran her fingers through it. "Draco, it was _only_ a half hour ago."

Draco leaned into the hand massaging his scalp. "You look stunning tonight. When you took off your school robes in the great hall . . . I suddenly had a need for everyone to know you were mine."

"How did you get to my side so quickly? You couldn't have gone all the way around the tables."

"I stood on the benches and walked across the tables."

He had leaned his mouth down to her shoulder and was kissing it. Hermione hummed in pleasure and continued to stroke her fingers through his hair.

"Your skin looks radiant in this color, Hermione."

She would have answered him in thanks, but he had moved back to kissing her mouth. "I've decided to tell you something I'm thinking tonight so I don't have to stop thinking it."

"That's a good – mmmmmm – a good idea." He was kissing her ear now.

"I want to run my hands over you in this dress, to feel your shape through the silk."

"Oh, Draco . . . yes, please," she whispered as he said that last bit against the corner of her mouth. It had become a habit of his, and it drove her crazy in the best of ways. _Put your hands on me._

Draco's hand came to rest on her leg and haltingly traced its shape up to her hip. He pulled away from her to look at her questioningly. Hermione nodded in reassurance and lifted her face for another kiss.

One kiss became two, became three, and soon the hand that touched her leg moved more confidently. Draco's long fingers wrapped around the small circumference of her ankle and slowly opened as he drew them up the length of her slender calf and thigh. He stopped when his thumb came within inches of the junction of her legs, and slid his hand to her hip. Then it curved around her backside, squeezing the flesh there before running up her back.

Now it was brushing across her stomach, then her ribs, and Hermione's heart began thudding even as she arched into his touch. He ran his hand up her side and then along the length of her bare arm. "Hermione."

Hermione's body was humming with sensory input. Between the feel of the silk flowing over her skin and Draco's hands awakening every nerve, she was trembling with pleasure. That hungry, pulling sensation had started again in her gut, and she shifted restlessly in his lap. His fingers were running along her collarbones, now tracing the neckline of her gown, pressing slightly into the soft swell of flesh there. "Draco . . ."

She pulled him down to kiss her again just as his large hand gently cupped her breast. She sighed against his lips. His fingers flexed and she arched against him again. He pulled back, looking down at his full palm with heavy-lidded eyes. She watched him close his eyes and swallow as he drew his hand back down to her waist.

"We should stop." Draco's voice sounded rough.

_No!_ Disappointment flooded her. She was familiar with the resolute look on Draco's face. It was the same one he'd worn in the past when he was keeping her from trouble. Hermione tried to reason with herself. _Maybe he's trying not to break a rule. I wish I could ask him. _ She sighed and smiled ruefully. "Maybe it wasn't a good idea to wear this dress after all."

Draco shifted awkwardly and moved her to sit a bit farther down on his lap, away from him. He was blushing. "The dress was an excellent idea."

"It was a very generous gift, and I think you probably spent far too much, but I love it. Thank you."

"Tonight I'm sending an owl to the witch who made it. She can send the next one right away."

"Next one? Draco, you don't need—"

She stopped because he was shaking his head and looking quite serious. "Lucius put her on retainer when you accepted. She's been working all week, I'm sure. Besides, soon we'll dress you like this every day."

His choice of words caused her to shiver. _They're going to dress me_. _That could be interpreted two different ways. _Visions of Draco and Lucius sliding clothes on and off her body rose to mind, and Hermione was even more aroused than she'd been when his hands were running over her. She shifted her position on his thighs, trying to quell the feeling.

Draco raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. "I think it's time to say goodnight." At her sound of protest, he grinned and firmly slid her off his lap. "Harry will be here soon."

Draco pulled his robes fully around him as he stood. He was blushing and turned away briefly. Hermione was puzzled for a moment before realization struck. _Oh. OH. He's . . . He was moving me away from his . . ._ _he's done that before, hide . . .it . . . with his robes. Lucius is right – I am an ingénue. _Now Hermione was blushing fiercely as well.

The two did their best to fight through the awkwardness, and spent the next ten minutes talking about the upcoming Ravenclaw party. Draco reminded her to ask Harry, and she agreed happily. When Harry showed up breathless and with his sweater inside out, Draco dropped a kiss on the top of her head and thanked Harry for his trouble, then left quickly.


	23. Chapter 23

**Helloooo Wizarding World! Hope you all had a lovely Valentine's Day filled with chocolate truffles and champagne cocktails. Mine was! I'd love to say I'm a cheap date, but that would be a wicked, wicked lie. And I'm wicked enough without the lying . . . Good thing Mr. glittergrrrl05 likes his naughty girl.**

**I just have to thank a few of you who left notes on the review page or PM'd me: Jarvia Elipton, GothicReader, reader 676, ShadowsInLight, jenelajohn79, lakelady 8425, and IGTE. THanks for popping in to say hello, make predictions, and suggest ideas! Love it. Sparkly hearts to all of you.**

**Here's a new question of the week: Who's your fave J.K. Rowling character of all time?**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 23 – Friday Evening

Hermione and Harry walked back to Gryffindor tower in companionable silence. She spent the time thinking back over the very last part of her visit with Draco, and wondered if Harry would be a willing source of information. It would be embarrassing, of course, but she could get through it. When they got to the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione stopped Harry. "Errr, Harry? Could I ask you a question? About . . . guy stuff?"

She had prepared herself for smirking and teasing, but Harry just nodded his head. "Sure, 'Mione. What do you want to know?"

"Ummm, when you're . . . I mean, if . . ." She could feel the heat in her cheeks. She took a deep breath and began again. "Okay. Draco and I were . . . I was sitting on his lap, and we were kissing, and he was . . . um, you know – he was touching me . . ."

When Hermione trailed off uncertainly, Harry took the opportunity to say, "Wow, I wouldn't have thought you'd have got there quite yet, especially with Draco. You're saying he was . . ." Harry hesitated and looked apologetic, "Sorry, 'Mione, but I don't do girly euphemisms. He was fingering you?"

Her face flamed. She said in a mortified tone, "No! He wasn't . . .! We haven't . . .!"

"Okay, by the look on your face I'm going to back way up and assume he was touching you in a very general way over your clothes. Am I right?"

She let out a breath of relief. "Yes! Thank you! He was . . . doing that, and he suddenly said we should stop, and moved me away from him a bit, and then we got up and he looked embarrassed and pulled his robes around him . . . _you know_ . . . and I just wanted to know why he was . . . if that feels . . . um, why would that be bad?"

Harry raised his eyebrow and smiled at her. "Sounds like you gave him a little problem. It's—"

He was interrupted by the Fat Lady herself, who had apparently been eavesdropping. "Oh, if you're referring to either of the Malfoys, I wouldn't call it a _little_ problem at all! We portraits see _everything_, let me tell you!"

Hermione wanted to sink through the floor. _Now I won't be able to look at any portrait in this entire castle ever again._ The Fat Lady continued, "Oh, my dear, don't be embarrassed. It's all very natural. Do go on!"

The curly-headed witch closed her eyes in shame-faced defeat. Now was not the time to get her answers from Harry. "That's—never mind." She stepped through the portal and began walking towards the stairs to the girls' dorm.

"Hermione, wait!" Ginny was calling to her from the couches by the fireplace. The common room was occupied by nearly all the witches of Gryffindor as well as few from the other houses, and they looked like they had been waiting for her arrival. It was suddenly quiet, and Hermione felt self-conscious as she realized that now everyone knew of her binding with the Malfoys. _What are they all thinking? Where's Ron? _Ginny continued, "All we can talk about is your big news! Congratulations, you lucky, lucky witch!"

Students started clapping and a few whistled. Hermione smiled and glanced around at what she now realized were pleased faces. "Thank you. It's nice not having it be a secret anymore."

She meant it, too. It would be nice to acknowledge her relationship with Draco publicly. _Now we can hold hands in the halls._ _Among other things . . . _Meanwhile_, _Hermione had thoroughly searched the room by this point and was relieved not to see Ron.

Ginny came up and hugged her. Her friend must have known exactly what Hermione had been doing, because she whispered, "He's not here. My dad sent a Portkey with instructions to leave for home right after dinner."

Out loud she exclaimed, "You look amazing tonight – is this dress from Draco and Lucius? Tell us all about it!"

For the next twenty minutes Hermione was surrounded by well-wishers, being hugged and asked about her courtship and the upcoming wedding. She skirted specific questions, not knowing what was appropriate to share, and was relieved that no one pressed her for more information. In fact, she noticed that the attitudes of her fellow Gryffindors were now tinged with a new respect. For what, though_ - the fact that I stood up to Ron, or that I'm engaged to the Malfoys?_ Whichever it was, it felt nice in a small dose.

She was very aware that Ginny had manipulated the situation completely in her favor and gratefully hugged her. "Thank you, Gin. What would I do without you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I thought we already established that you'd be a wreck. By the way, that was a very dramatic reveal at dinner. Between Draco walking across the tables to defend you and your beautiful gown, the entire school thinks it was the most romantic thing ever to happen here. Oh – I brought your robes to your room. Just think – you don't need to hide under them any more!"

Finally Hermione said to the roomful of witches, "Well, as nice as this has been, I need to go to bed."

She exchanged goodnights with the crowd in general and once again turned toward the dorms. Harry was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. "We never got to finish."

Hermione blushed. "That's okay – just forget it, Harry. I shouldn't have—"

"Yes, you should. Don't ever be afraid to ask me anything, 'Mione. You really are a sister to me. We're family. I will _always_ help you."

_I don't think that most brothers perform sex acts in front of their sisters, but that's probably nit picking on my part. And I do love Harry like a brother._ "Thanks. That's how I feel about you, too."

He stood beside her, speaking in a very quiet voice. "In answer to your question, Draco stopped because he wanted to keep going, and then found himself with a problem he couldn't take care of . . . errrr, you obviously prefer when I spell things out. What you two were doing turned him on, but he knew that if he didn't stop at that point, he would have pushed you too far. Basically, it felt incredibly good and the consequence of that was an erection he wanted to hide from you. It's not something guys want girls like you to know about just seven days into the relationship."

"Girls like me?"

"Nice girls. Innocent girls, who might be unprepared for the fact that their boyfriend has suddenly pitched a tent in his pants – and that tent is actually a skin-covered steel rod they plan to push into their girl's pussy. Is that spelled out enough for you?"

"Yes. I _was _unprepared, and it was awkward after that. Do you think he was . . . really uncomfortable?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure he took care of the problem when he got back to his room. And even if he didn't, I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time you've given him blue balls. You have even more questions now, don't you?"

She nodded, blushing again. Harry gave her a one-armed hug and said, "This isn't the best situation for us to talk freely. How about we take this up another time?"

She gave him a grateful squeeze and called out one last general goodnight as she climbed the stairs. In her room, she stood in front of her mirror for a few minutes, remembering the looks she had received while wearing the dress. Her friends in the commons had been full of admiration and good-natured covetousness. Lucius and Draco had looked at her with blatant desire, trailing their gazes all over her body. She remembered the way Lucius had toyed with the strap and then stroked her bottom lip. Now that she was able to process that moment of seduction away from his burning gaze, she wondered how she hadn't combusted spontaneously as he touched her._ His intensity is always smoldering right under the surface. That's what he's tried to hide from me – but now that I've recognized it, I don't think he can completely do that anymore. He's right, though; if he fully revealed that side of himself to me right now, I'd be terrified. And I've all but promised that I'll kiss him in the morning._

Soon, she knew she'd be ready for Lucius unleashed. The disparity between the passion in his eyes and the gentleness of his hands came to mind. _No matter how intense he might be, he will never hurt me. We were meant for each other._ The thought of his hands moving over her body as he voiced his fantasies made the inner muscles of her pelvis clench pleasurably, and she felt that increasingly familiar ache of physical desire fill her. _I'm going to kiss Lucius in the morning._ She physically shook herself. _I need to think about something else._

She willed her mind elsewhere as she washed her face and brushed her teeth, and then got into bed. _They're going to give me another beautiful dress_. The thought made her smile into her pillow with delight. She remembered the conversation. Hermione had been resistant to another extravagant gift, but Draco had brooked no argument. As she was falling asleep, two things occurred to her.

Firstly, Draco was very much like Lucius at times. When the two of them decided on something, it would happen. This might cause some friction in their relationship, because eventually Hermione would be back to her usual confident self. Secondly, Draco had probably already fantasized about her in the past hour and, as her 'brother' had so eloquently put it only a few nights ago, _rubbed one out_.

The Malfoy owl woke her up again the next morning. This time the note on the beautiful vellum parchment read,

_I will come to collect on your promise at 7:00 this morning. Yours, L._

She didn't even bother to offer the haughty bird a treat, but shooed it off the window ledge with a very short reply.

_7:00. Yours, H._

Hermione had shivered and her heart had picked up its pace when she'd decided to add that extra word, but she had also smiled in satisfaction. Now she wondered what Lucius' reaction would be when he saw it. _It's true, though – I'm as much his as he is mine. _She sent a Galleon message to Harry _Vst at 7am pls_ and waited for his reply. Only a few minutes later he responded _Ok_, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Now she began her morning routine in earnest. It would be a busy day – first the visit with Lucius (_for the express purpose of kissing him_, she reminded herself needlessly), and then the Quidditch match and ensuing celebration. She could worry about the Ravenclaw party later.

Hermione tried to plan accordingly. Before the death of her parents and complete immersion in the wizarding world, Hermione would have without doubt worn jeans and a T-shirt. However, now more than ever she was aware that, regardless of the practicality, witches wore skirts or dresses unless flying a broom. Even then, their trousers were quite different from jeans. _What can I wear that's pretty enough for the breakfast visit, functional enough for the match, and a combination of both for the trip to the village? _She looked through her wardrobe several times before giving in to the urge to wake Ginny.

The redheaded witch wasn't happy about being awakened early on a Saturday morning, but Hermione offered no apologies. "I need your help, so wake up and meet me in my room in ten minutes."

Ginny dragged herself to Hermione's bed within the allotted time and flopped down pathetically. The curly-headed witch rolled her eyes and thumped her friend with a pillow as she scolded her. "Wake," _thump_, "up!" _thump._

"Give me one good reason," Ginny murmured sleepily into the coverlet.

"I," _thump_, "am meeting Lucius," _thump_, "To kiss him," _thump_, "because I promised last night!" _thump, thump, thum—_

Ginny grabbed the offending pillow, sitting upright and looking much more alert. "You haven't kissed him yet?"

"Of course I have – on the cheek, on the chin, just never on the mouth. He's been teasing me about it all week, and last night I asked him to come this morning."

"To claim his kiss," her friend clarified.

"Errrr, yes. So if you wou—" she was interrupted by Ginny's happy shrieks.

"Hermione! That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard! Sweet Circe on a broom – this is the kind of thing you read about in my mum's romance novels!"

"Yes, fine! It's romantic – either that or pathetic. Now be quiet and listen to me!" She quickly explained her dilemma and requirements.

Ginny was a lot of things: bossy, impatient, intolerant . . . however she was also generous, hard working, and, above all, creative. She set to work on her friend's problem and ransacked her own wardrobe. Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was dressed in a dark brown skirt that was gathered just enough to be pretty, but slim enough so it wouldn't be caught in a strong breeze. Best of all, it was made of light flannel and would be perfect for sitting in the stands. Ginny's loan included a satiny, cream-colored button-down shirt. "Now put on your flats, and you'll be set. Can you manage to find Harry on your own, or do I need to do that, too?"

"Thanks, Gin. You're the best!"

"I know. Now go kiss your wizard. And take notes – I want to hear all about it later!"

"Got it!" Hermione snatched up a hairbinder and purse, and flew down to meet Harry in the commons.


	24. Chapter 24

**Happy Tuesday, all you lovely witches! Just want you to know that I follow your reviews, and have been struck today by what a sweet, encouraging, IMPATIENT lot you are! I'm going to interpret that as having done something right, so thank you! **

**RozaLove, Silv3rfox, monami27, AltoBonesLiteraryWorks, and Alesia G - I love you, too! Hope this chapter gets you off my back for a bit (winks and smirks)**

**Gurlonthemove, Jnk4621, Rachael Elizabeth Cullen, and medward - I'm so glad you like the story still!**

**kymmy1, IGTE, YomiLoveAkasuma, and MariaSven - You seem like you're hoping for some sort of kiss in this chapter . . .**

**marianna79, arabellagrace, Gracie Laufey, and Brightki - you're the bestest cheerleaders on the internet!**

**Incidentally, the librarian in me checks on story stats regularly, and today it hit 458 reviews, 500 follows and 76,000 hits. It made me smile (and also squeal). Thank you! gg**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 24 – Saturday Morning

Hermione arrived at the door to the Headmaster's office at the same time as Lucius, who drew her hand under his arm. In the doorway, he released her and paused. The young witch half-turned to look up at him, halting her forward progress. She felt his hand brush the back of her neck, and shivered as his fingers toyed with her loose curls. Her eyes closed partway in pleasure at his touch.

"Into the office with you now, before I thoroughly terrify you," he murmured.

That broke the spell; Hermione gave a soft snort of laughter and obeyed. She was momentarily distracted by the choice of seating. The table was set up as it usually was by the fireside, but there was only one chair.

Professor Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. She paused. "Don't we need a chaperone?"

"The Headmaster's in his chambers." Lucius' head nodded in the direction of the half-opened door at the other end of the room. He drew Hermione toward the table by her hand, and she realized immediately that he expected her to sit on his lap. _We're practically alone. It's like Wednesday, only this time I've promised to kiss him._ She felt her heart begin to pound.

Lucius sat and pulled Hermione across his lap in one fluid movement and leaned his head down next to hers. Hermione tried to shut out the sensations of his lips moving against her ear as he murmured, "I've decided to introduce you to a pureblood wizarding tradition. It's customary for wizards to feed their witches on special occasions."

Lucius broke off a small piece of scone and brought it to her lips, keeping his eyes locked with hers. As she took it into her mouth, her tongue brushed his finger. His eyes darkened, and he looked away briefly. "Would you like tea?"

"Yes, please. Black with-" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Two lumps of sugar." At her questioning look, he explained, "Our last breakfast."

Lucius fed her breakfast almost entirely by hand, only using a fork for the gooey egg. He raised her cup to her mouth, brushed away stray crumbs with his fingers, and watched her with obvious fascination. The meal was almost over at this point, and Lucius was hand-feeding her a strawberry he'd dipped it in cream and sugar. His eyes never left her mouth as he gently pushed the ripe fruit between her lips for each bite, and when she was done he used his thumb to wipe her lip clean.

Hermione was suddenly aware of every one of Lucius' movements. Back and forth went his thumb, stroking gently but firmly against her bottom lip and pulling it to run ever so slightly inside. She remembered last night's visit, and the position she'd been in his lap as he'd done the same thing to her mouth.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and she felt her eyelids lower even as her occupied mouth moved to give his thumb a wet kiss. She stole a glance at his face. Lucius' eyes had darkened and his eyes were on her mouth. "I think it's time to practice your aim, pet. Are you done?"

_He's seducing me_. _I want to be seduced by Lucius_. She was overcome with a feeling of skittishness, but the curl of desire that began twisting inside Hermione was stronger. She nodded when he asked, "Shall we move to our usual spot?"

Lucius led her to their chair in the alcove. He watched her with a predatory look in his eye, and Hermione felt very much like prey. He stretched out his long legs in a casual manner, and Hermione wasn't sure at all how he expected her to sit down. Wordlessly, he took her by the hand and led her between his legs, to sit on just one of his thighs. She slowly took her seat in this new position, curling her legs up, and waited for him to put his hands on her waist. When he didn't, she looked at him, confused.

Lucius hadn't taken his gaze from her face, and she was having a hard time reading his expression. "What is it, pet?"

Hermione picked up one of his well-shaped hands and held it to her waist, then did the same to the other. Lucius withdrew them. "Ah-ah-ah. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to put your hands on me."

"You want me to put my hands on you," he mused. "I would like very much to do that. How shall I touch you, my lovely?" He raised his hand to trace his forefinger over her collarbones and down her shirt's front placket of buttons to the waistband of her skirt. Down the placket and then up, each time letting his finger barely trace the inner curves of her breasts. Hermione shivered. _If I play with snakes, I mostly certainly will get bitten. But I'm marrying this snake . . ._

She had been leaning into his touch unconsciously. Now she realized how close she was and blushed, but didn't move away. He commanded, "Tell me."

"I want you to put your hands on my waist the way you usually do . . . " she was trying to remember to breathe, and her voice was almost a whisper, " . . . and I think I want you to kiss me."

Lucius was a tease. He leaned down slowly, eyes on her lips, and hovered over her mouth. When she thought she might die from the anticipation, he barely brushed her lips with his. She felt his hands wrap loosely around her waist at the same time.

"Is that what you think you want?"

The feather-light touch wasn't what she had wanted from him at all, and her expression must have shown her confusion. He raised an eyebrow expectantly. _He wants words_.

"I want you to kiss me."

"But I just did, pet."

Hermione felt a stab of annoyance, and glared at him. She growled, "I want a _real_ kiss."

Lucius' eyes lit up speculatively. "You'd like a _real_ kiss?"

She nodded in relief. "Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes . . . Lucius."_ I will not beg! Yet._

"Good girl." That last word was partially lost because he had already lowered his mouth to hers. It was their first kiss, and Hermione immediately began cataloguing the differences between his mouth and Draco's. Both soft, both warm, both exceedingly gentle at the first touch. Both capable of making her feel that tugging sensation deep within her gut.

Draco's first kiss with her had been sweetly tentative, and imbued with purity – for a moment it had made her forget the rest of the world. Lucius' kiss was as sophisticated and subtly aggressive as the rest of him and it fed her confidence – it gave her the feeling she could _conquer_ the world. She decided she liked kissing them both very, very much.

Lucius began to pull away, but Hermione's body seemed to take control of itself. She felt herself leaning almost involuntarily into him, closing the gap between their mouths. As their lips met, she felt one of his hands weave into her hair, holding her close. The other pressed firmly against her back, causing her to arch against his chest. She felt the tension of his lips change, felt her own lips part under this new pressure, his tongue sweep over her lower lip.

This was new. She and Draco had just progressed to open-mouthed kisses, and their tongues hadn't left either of their mouths yet. Her mouth yielded and responded in kind, and Lucius made a sound of approval. His tongue pushed past her lips now, against her own tongue in a stroking motion, and then retreated briefly. He alternated the sensual pattern - kiss, nudge, tease, tongue - until her toes curled within her shoes. _He's teaching me. He's going to teach me all kinds of wicked things_. When she hesitantly copied him, he smiled against her lips and murmured, "Again."

Hermione had always been a good student, and she applied all her focus to the task of kissing Lucius as he had just taught her. At first he complied with her lead, but soon took over. His mouth moved to control the kiss, and his tongue gently but firmly pushed hers back. _We're already fighting for control_.

Her wizard's mouth met hers again and again, and the original controlled rhythm slowly changed to a quicker, hungrier one, as his careful veneer of control seemed to slip. One of his hands ran along her back and pulled gently at her hair while the other circled her neck, thumb under her chin to keep her head raised. Finally, Lucius drew away from her face, breathing heavily. He murmured, "Exquisite."

His thumb came up to brush against her lip again. "Tell me about last night."

Regardless of the ambiguity of Lucius' words, Hermione jumped to the worst possible interpretation. She laid her head on his broad shoulder and bought some time by helping herself to a lungful of the Malfoy scent. _How do I say that Draco felt me up and then we had to stop because he wanted to hide his erection from me? I can barely say it to myself! Oh, and then I had to ask Harry why – and he wasn't even there!_

She absentmindedly stroked a lock of Lucius' hair as she thought her way through the possible conversation. Finally, the young witch sighed in defeat. "I don't think I'm quite that brave yet."

Lucius rubbed her back in soothing strokes. "Surely it can't be that bad, my prize."

"It wasn't bad, just embarrassing to talk about. Draco and I didn't visit very long, and then Harry and I went back to Gryffindor tower. Most of the witches from my house were waiting to congratulate me, and then Harry and I talked before I went to bed."

It wasn't going to be that easy. "Tell me what has you so flustered."

"I can't! It's—" He had pulled her chin up and was kissing her. Not the short, sweet kiss that she had become accustomed to enjoying over the past week with Draco - this was another of Lucius' intoxicating mouthfuls. Hermione was assaulted by the lush sensation of his rough, wet tongue against hers. She was just forgetting her own name when he pulled back to murmur against her lips, "Tell me."

He kept her jaw firmly in his grasp, but now pulled it down so that he could lean his chin against her forehead. Hermione blushed and was sure he could feel the heat of her face against his. Lucius spoke into her hair. "Draco and I speak by Floo every night. He told me about your visit. Are you uncomfortable telling me that he ran his hands up the length of your lovely legs?"

"No . . ." _All-powerful Circe, they talk every night . . . _His hand traced a path up the back of her leg, where it curled against his. She felt another wave of heat wash over her face before the previous one had even subsided.

"Or that he found that he could palm your delectable backside with one hand?"

She didn't answer, and was sure that her blush had raised the temperature of the room by several degrees. His hand followed his words over the curve of her bottom. "Perhaps you don't want to say that he cupped one of your beautiful breasts, and felt its round weight in his hand?"

"Lucius . . ." she pleaded helplessly, and for what Hermione didn't know. Now he was running his fingers over her hip and up her ribcage to brush against the underside of her breast. Part of the embarrassment she'd felt a few minutes ago was quickly being replaced by want.

"No? None of those things would be difficult to say to me? Shall I go on?"

In an effort to gain some control, Hermione managed to breathe, "Please don't."

"My darling, you seem to be under the misapprehension that your body and its worship are sources of embarrassment. We will work to correct this. In the meantime, I must tell you that I find your utter naiveté captivating."

Hermione lifted her forehead from his chin to look at him in disbelief. He continued, "It is as much of a gift as your pristine physical purity."

_He called me his darling._ _ I think he just said he's going to corrupt me._

"As enjoyable as it was to watch you blush, what I actually wanted to hear from you was your very public revelation of the betrothal."

_Oh_. _OH._ "I completely forgot to tell you about it last night! You were so tired at first, and then . . ."

"Yes, as you say - _and then_. Albus briefly told me what happened before you and Draco arrived last night, but I preferred to spend my time with you . . . otherwise."

She blushed yet again. "Didn't Draco already tell you all about that, too?"

"I want to hear about it from you."

Hermione launched into a fairly detailed account of last night's dinner theatre. Lucius seemed to find it amusing, and so she spared no details. When she had finished telling him of her dramatic exit with Draco, Lucius looked pleased.

"I though you might be angry."

Lucius laughed out loud. "For what, pet? A lesser man's jealousy over my beautiful wife-to-be? For your magnificent defense of yourself? For the confidence it has clearly restored in you? The pup has been put in his place. I see no need to pay him more attention than he deserves."

He paused to stroke her cheek. "Nevertheless, you will stay away from him. Draco and I have discussed the events of Wednesday in detail, and agree that your dizziness could be a result of such close proximity to the Weasley boy."

"It was punishment for breaking a rule?"

"Not a punishment, but perhaps a warning. It would seem that the covenant has taken a rather possessive view of you. But let us discus this further another time, and finish our conversation about last night's announcement."

_Is he waiting for a response? I should respond. I can't seem to remember how to talk. Merlin's beard, his eyes are burning me up._ "Ummmm . . ."

"Your speech brought me great . . ." He leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers, " . . .pleasure."

Lucius kissed Hermione until her eyes crossed and her brain was deprived of oxygen. At some point during their time together, he'd pulled her much, much closer to his hip. Now, as she curled even closer to wrap her arms further around his neck, she became aware that her knee was brushing against something that didn't feel like anything familiar. Either Lucius had something quite large in his pocket, or . . . Her brain flickered to life. _Something in his pocket . . . anatomy . . . sweet Circe, mother of magic, I'm in contact with his . . . _Hermione froze.

Lucius looked down at her with amusement. He seemed to know exactly what was running through her head, because he chuckled and kissed her one last time before helping her to her feet. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, pet."


	25. Chapter 25

**Happy Wednesday, Everyone! **

**pianomouse, Smash-Photographer, b0wtiesarecool - glad you like. This is a lot of fun, especially with all the great feedback. **

**Solarscarlettpulse - I've always been a bit of a 'if one glass of that Chilean cabernet is good, two will definitely be even better' person, as displayed by my refusal to settle for only one Malfoy. **

**medward and punkyredhead, you two are on to something but that's all I'm saying . . . just don't hold your breath, because I need you alive to see that you were right later on!**

**Alesia G - Don't tell anyone else this, but I totes ship Lucius, too! Oh, and Draco. Can't forget him. Oops.**

**AuggieDeeksNico - Love your question and hopefully time will tell (sang the last part)!**

**the youngest gorgons - glad you didn't have a heart attack. Yet.**

**TheLastRider - thanks for the sweet note! Hope you enjoy Quidditch . . .**

**This chapter is dedicated to Brightki, who, when asked for a good descriptor of Draco in Quidditch uniform, gifted me with the word 'taut'. Best. Witch. Ever!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 25 – Saturday Morning

Lucius' amusement with her mortification somehow relieved the awkwardness almost immediately, and she found herself laughing as he smiled at her. He was so _sure_ of himself, and so comfortable in his own skin. _I'm glad he's going to be my first . . . first. He'll keep me from being embarrassed even though I won't know what I'm doing._

She looked at her wizard appreciatively, taking in his handsome features that were so similar yet so different from Draco's own. Lucius' clean, strong build and aristocratic face reflected his personality perfectly - he was the epitome of arrogance and strength blended with an attractive amount of danger, and Hermione _liked_ it.

As they left the alcove, Lucius said, "I hope you don't mind, but Draco asked me to stay for the match. Please don't let me keep you from your friends."

_Could Lucius Malfoy be feeling insecure? _Hermione suddenly felt confident and a bit playful. She took hold of the front of his robes to pull him down to her level and at the same time pulled herself up on her tiptoes. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep a straight face and whispered, "My friends will all be on the pitch playing, and I'll be by myself, alone in the stands."

His eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips in thought. Only the tiniest twinkle betrayed his mood. "That would be in breach of your rules of courtship."

"I'll have to sit with the faculty, probably between Minerva and the Headmaster."

"Oddly enough, that's where I plan to sit."

"Perhaps we'll end up sitting near each other."

"Minx," Lucius chuckled and leaned down the last few inches to her mouth, kissing her breathless and cross-eyed. Unlike Draco, he never flinched when they were interrupted. Instead, he finished the kiss in a slow, savoring sort of way and then pressed one more to her nose before he acknowledged the Headmaster.

"Albus."

Hermione knew her face was bright red, but the Headmaster continued as if he hadn't interrupted such an intimate moment. _I've kissed Draco in front of Harry and Luna. How is this any different? _ "Good morning to you both. I hope you will excuse my absence from the table this morning. Aberforth and I were chatting by Floo, and time got away from me. And speaking of time, the match is due to start shortly. Have you made other arrangements, or shall we all walk together to the pitch?"

It was the only way Hermione would be able to get there without Harry, and so it was agreed. At the door, the Headmaster paused. "Oh, Lucius - before we leave here, perhaps you would like to give Miss Granger her gift? It arrived while you were visiting."

There on Professor Dumbledore's desk was a box wrapped identically to the one used to package her dress. Lucius crossed the room and retrieved it, handing it to her with a bow. As his head reached her level, he murmured, "For you, my lovely. Wear it for my next visit."

Hermione blushed and bit back her delighted smile. "I will. Thank you, Lucius."

He cast an elegantly executed Shrinking charm on the wrapped box, and Hermione tucked it into her purse. Only moments later, they were on their way.

She was struck by the difference in walking with each of her wizards. She and Draco had only just begun acknowledging that they liked to touch one another, but this was already reflected in the way they walked together. Their hands brushed, he wrapped his arm around her, and she leaned into his side. Draco leaned down to talk to her in a low voice, and she responded by raising her head to catch his eye.

She wasn't as casually comfortable with Lucius yet – at least, not away from her nook between his jaw and shoulder. Most of their interactions had taken place in the privacy of their alcove. Now, walking together for the first time outside the Headmaster's office, there was an air of formality between them that Hermione wanted to dispel. His restraint showed in the way he tucked her arm under his so that her hand rested on his forearm, and the way he kept an appropriate distance from her side. _Does he feel awkward, too, or is he trying not to push me too far? _His pace was dignified, and Hermione wondered if he ever hurried. She finally decided that Lucius didn't seem like the sort of man to let time get the best of him.

The Headmaster was a brisk walker, much to Hermione's surprise, and so he remained several paces ahead of them. She'd never actually gone anywhere with him, and she was amazed at their progress through the castle. Thankfully, he didn't attempt much conversation, other than the occasional comment thrown over his shoulder to Lucius about the weather and the upcoming game.

Streams of students and faculty were making their way to the pitch as well, and Hermione became aware that she and her wizard were drawing attention. Witches and wizards openly gawked at Lucius, and many of them made sure to call overly familiar greetings to her. _They've never given me the time of day before now. What's changed?_ Astoria's words of warning flitted through her head, and she pointedly ignored the next opportunistic student to open their mouth.

The way some of the witches looked at Lucius caused a surge of possessiveness within the curly-headed witch. Her grip on his arm tightened, and she glanced up at him with narrowed eyes. He must have sensed her ire; he cast his eyes downward at her, barely moving his head, and raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

It was an eloquent, wordless conversation. Hermione's response to his silent enquiry was a clipped nod of her head in the direction of the next admiring witch. Lucius' mouth twitched in amusement. Hermione's eyes flashed in warning. Her wizard ended the silence by lowering his head toward hers as they continued walking. "I presume you don't like the attention, pet?"

"No!" She hissed self-consciously, "They're all looking at you like you're . . . like you're something to be bought at Honeydukes."

He looked down at her mischievously. "Perhaps I'm very sweet."

His answer did nothing to cool her irritation, and the attention only grew more concentrated the closer they drew to the stands. Now the crowd walked along beside them, and more students and faculty members took the opportunity to strike up conversations with her, and by extension Lucius. Mostly they were giggling witches and admiring wizards, who quickly introduced themselves to him (she certainly didn't bother to offer that courtesy) as 'good friends' of Hermione and then fled. Lucius remained imperturbably courteous throughout. At one point, he leaned to murmur, "I rarely allow myself to be distracted by the people around me. It would be wise for you to do the same."

The teachers lingered a bit longer, under the guise of talking with Hermione about her classes. These short conversations quickly gravitated toward her wizard, who was polite but offered no encouragement. The worst was Professor Slughorn. He immediately latched on to them as they left the castle, walking much too close to Hermione as he employed an air of familiarity with Lucius.

"Lucius, old boy! Come for Draco's last match, have you?" The professor hadn't even glanced at her as he spoke over her head._ It figures – before, I was only interesting to him as Harry Potter's swotty friend. Now I fall completely in Lucius' shadow._ _Not that I particularly want him to notice me._

Lucius placed his other hand over hers on his forearm and ran his fingers over the dragon mark. She glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead, but Hermione could see a tightness around his eyes and mouth that hadn't been there just a moment ago. His normally elegant drawl had a clipped tone, too. "Horace. As you can _see_, I am visiting with my lovely bride-to-be." _He either doesn't like the professor or the fact that he completely ignored me._

Slughorn didn't seem to notice Lucius' thinly veiled irritation, and he certainly didn't acknowledge Hermione. "How we'll miss our young Slytherin prince! I certainly hope you plan to host one of your matchless dinner parties in honor of his graduation."

Lucius was still stroking her arm in long trailing patterns, and now goose bumps broke out on the sensitized skin. He disregarded Slughorn and said to Hermione, "My dear, you're cold. Where are your robes?"

He was looking at her tenderly, and his fingers were still moving along the flesh of her arm. She shivered, but not because she was chilled. "I must have left them in the Headmaster's office."

Their pace had slowed some due to the crowd congestion as they neared the stands, and Lucius pulled her to the side. He slid his black outer robes off and draped them around her shoulders in a proprietary way. As he leaned down to wrap the material around her, he ran one long finger down the placket of her shirt in the same suggestive motion he'd used in their alcove not long ago.

"Lucius," she whispered. The entire exchange since Slughorn had last spoken took all of ten seconds, but the professor was completely forgotten. Lucius' eyes moved to her mouth, and he said in an undertone, "Your lips are begging to be kissed, but I find myself reticent to share such intimacy with our audience."

He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb several times and looked as if he wanted to say more, but Professor Slughorn loudly reminded them of his presence. "Of course, I would be happy to help with the guest list. We have some very promising Slytherin graduates who will benefit from the support of your family."

Lucius winced in annoyance and pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear instead. She sighed in pleasure as his warm breath tickled through her loose hair. Her wizard stood to his full height and replied, "We will be indisposed for the summer. I'm sure you understand."

The professor didn't look as though he understood in the slightest. He opened his mouth to argue even as Lucius steered Hermione around him. "And Horace," he added over his shoulder as they turned toward their tower, "In the future, I suggest you show more respect to the future Lady Malfoy."

"Blasted waste of space and magic," muttered Lucius as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her against his side. They climbed the stairs like this, and Hermione realized that some of her wizard's formal manner had vanished since the professor had pestered them. It seemed that being snubbed by the head of Slytherin had a silver lining after all.

"You know, you _really_ shouldn't allow yourself to be distracted by the people around you," she couldn't help but counter with a smirk.

When they reached the top, there was a brisk wind blowing, and Hermione was immensely grateful for her borrowed robes. Lucius guided her to the seats beside Professor McGonagall, and then arranged them so that he was between the two witches. He murmured as they sat, "Otherwise, she'll monopolize you."

He greeted Minerva cordially, nodded politely to the other faculty members nearby, and draped an arm over the back of Hermione's seat. He kept up a quiet, steady conversation with her and her favorite professor while they waited for the match to begin. Every so often he gently straightened one of her curls between his fingers.

Their seats were along the railing, and Hermione leaned over it to catch sight of Draco. Both teams had finished warming up and were taking one last lap high above the stands before heading toward starting positions. As the Slytherin players approached overhead, Draco must have caught sight of her. Suddenly his broom broke into a steep nosedive toward the pitch.

Hermione, who had never learned to relax around brooms, tried to control her panicked breathing. _Oh Merlin, he's going to die. I've only just started kissing him, and he's going to die right in front of me._ Seconds later, he pulled up in front of her with a cocky grin on his face. She missed the expression at first, though, because she was too busy taking in the sight of Draco Malfoy in full Quidditch garb. _Circe, mother of magic . . ._

Draco was, on any given day, beautiful. Tall, well-formed, and classically featured, he stood out from his peers. His expensive robes hung and clung perfectly, and Hermione had developed a recent admiration for the way they subtly showed his physique. Now, though, her aesthetic appreciation morphed into full-fledged lust at the sight before her.

His long legs, bent as they were in balance astride his broom, stretched the fabric of his fitted white trousers across the taut muscles of his thighs. His robes had come untied during his flight, and now hung down around his elbows, and his jersey was already stuck to his chest with sweat. That left the shape of his wide shoulders and strong upper arms exposed to her quickly glazing eyes.

And then there was this subtle shift in personality. Draco was almost always collected, always confident, but in a measured way. Even when he was blushing, his shoulders were thrown back and head held high. Now, though, his attitude matched his posture and he exuded a smug arrogance that Hermione found mesmerizing. _I'd totally ride his Firebolt. And oh Merlin, I mean it. _She blushed, a steady burn spreading from her cheeks down to her toes, and for once it had nothing to do with embarrassment. A teasing sensation of tingling and coiling began in her lower stomach. She allowed herself only a lingering, open-mouthed gape before looking up to his face. When she saw his satisfied expression, she snapped out of her trance and swallowed the drool that had collected in her mouth.

"I think you're missing something, little witch." Draco held something in his hand, and he held it out toward her in a playful manner. It was his scarf. He landed on the empty seats beside her and clambered down to stand at her level. Handing off his broomstick to Lucius, who clapped him on the back, Draco turned to the curly-headed witch. He brought the scarf over her head and proceeded to loop it loosely around her neck. When he was done, he slowly trailed his fingers down its long ends, barely brushing against her breasts. It was enough to send a pool of wetness to her knickers, and she fought against the urge to wrap herself around him. Instead she scowled and viciously tugged on the lacings of his Quidditch robes, tying them securely. When she looked up, he was still looking quite smug.

"Don't fly recklessly. Don't fly too high. Don't fly too fast." She emphasized each point with a finger-poke to his chest and tried not to be distracted by the way his green robes complimented his hair and eyes.

He suddenly looked at her very seriously. "I am . . . confused. Are you upset with me, or nervous, or angry?"

Hermione was instantly delighted. _Our first conversation, at the Slytherin party. He remembers it!_ She countered, "I am very nervous. And I don't want to be, so I am trying to be angry. But I'm not upset with you, not really."

The sounds of the filling stands grew fainter as a bubble formed around them. Draco's eyes were sparkling. He leaned down so that she arched backwards to accommodate him. Her hand came up to his shoulder to steady herself, and he wrapped a hand around her back. "Miss Granger," he whispered, "Are you keeping me from fun?"

Lucius cut in amusedly. "Just hurry up and kiss her, Draco, before your entire team comes to drag you to the pitch."

He did, and the noise around them vanished for a few seconds again. Draco pulled away to give her one of his full-on smiles as he took his broom from Lucius. Then he treated her to one last smug smirk before he kicked off to rejoin his team. Hermione cast a surreptitious glance over at the other occupants of the tower. No one gave any indication that they'd noticed the Slytherin Seeker land in their midst in all his sweaty glory to flirt with her . . . and kiss her. _ I'll bet they're being respectful because of Lucius. Students wouldn't be nearly so discreet._

She'd thought that too soon. No sooner had she sat than Minerva leaned across Lucius to provide her own brand of commentary, including her evaluation of Draco in his uniform. She ended by saying, "Merlin's wand, Hermione – if you think you can still pretend not to be affected by these two men, you're sorely mistaken. Why on earth are you blushing?"

Lucius looked immensely amused, and a red-faced Hermione realized that his earlier comment about their audience was true. _This is how it will be from now on – I'm going to have to learn to practice restraint._ She was drawn from her musings by the sound of the starting whistle. The match had begun.

With a wild flourish of maroon and green robes, the teams snapped into action. The two Seekers fought to have the first clear look from high above the pitch, and Draco directed his broomstick straight at Harry's as he tried to knock him off course. _If he dies, I'm going to be furious with him._ Resolved not to spend the rest of the match pondering his mortality, Hermione turned her focus to the wizard beside her, who had slipped his arm beneath her borrowed robes and was running his fingers up and down her side. Lucius was talking with Minerva, and it sounded as though the two were placing bets on the outcome of the game.

"Five Galleons on Gryffindor."

"Only five, Minerva? Surely you're more confident in the success of your team than that." Up and down, up and down went his fingers, and Hermione fought to keep her eyes crossing with pleasure.

"Five is more than confident on a teacher's salary, Lucius."

"One hundred on Slytherin."

"Only one hundred, Lucius? Surely you're more confident in the success of your team than that!"

They bantered back and forth while the sun rose higher, and soon the two had convinced most of the other tower occupants to join in the gambling pool. Hermione leaned her head against her wizard's broad shoulder. He glanced at her, one side of his mouth lifting in a smile, and tugged on one of her curls again. _This is nice; almost as nice as sitting on his lap._ She rubbed her face against his waistcoat, taking in his fragrance.

"Are you warm enough, my prize?" He leaned to put his mouth close to her ear and stayed there, awaiting her answer.

"Yes, thank you." She drew his arm around her more closely even as she said it.

"I would very much like to kiss you right now. Our next visit cannot come soon enough."

"When will it be?" She asked quietly. Under the cover of the robe, she tangled her hand with his at her side.

He was already straightening to sit upright. "Will you visit with me tomorrow evening?"

She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, drinking in the sight of his handsome profile. _Mine_. Up to this point, Lucius had summoned her to visits through messengers and notes. Now for the first time, Hermione had the power to choose whether or not to accept his invitation. _I could tell him I'm busy, and he would have to accept it. Except I don't think I'll be too busy for Lucius for a long time to come. _She felt confident and playful, and replied, "That depends. Will there be kissing?"

Lucius leaned down once more. "And then some."

She turned her focus back to the match, trying desperately to ignore the desire her wizard's words had stirred within her. Hermione shifted in her seat, trying to relieve the pleasant ache between her legs. _I will be needful and writhing long before Friday. I wonder what 'and then some' means . . ._

Harry and Draco were still unharmed. Lucius and Minerva continued ironing out their rules for the betting with those around them, and he turned to Hermione again. "What do think, pet? Shall we place money on players or points this game?"

He looked surprised when she answered, "Betting is a waste of time and money. It's true that some odds are based on skill, but there are often too many variables in Quidditch. The Arithmancy needed to make an accurate prediction would be terribly complicated. Besides, it's just a game."

"So you don't have a preference for who wins?" Minerva looked across Lucius to Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"I have a preference for both Seekers to remain alive and in their original shapes, and preferably with no brain damage. And I'd like Ginny to land in one piece."

"Speaking of Weasleys, one seems to be missing. Doesn't the youngest boy play Keeper for Gryffindor?" Lucius' tone was civil, but both witches tensed at the question. Hermione had forgotten all about Ron in the morning's excitement until this moment. _What's going on at the Burrow, I wonder?_

Minerva merely replied, "Vicky Frobisher will do a fine job." She added in a wry tone, "We're just lucky there wasn't a meeting of the Charms club this morning, otherwise I might have had to suit up."

The three grew silent again as Slytherin earned eighty points straight in a row. This put the green team ahead by one hundred ninety points. She couldn't drag her eyes from the match. Draco and Harry were two blurs weaving through the rest of the game, dodging players and Bludgers in a synchronized search for the Snitch. Now they were high above, circling, now diving down to the bases of the towers. She saw them push against each other as they curved around obstacles, saw the single-minded grimness on their faces as they swooped past.

This was the part of the match she hated most. Seven years she'd watched Harry seek for the elusive Snitch, and at each match she'd watch her easy-going friend's deadly alter ego appear. When the first whistle blew, Harry's smile dropped from his face and all that mattered was that damned, whizzing, and gold ball. She'd seen and could recall with clarity every one of his various injuries: broken bones, dislocated joints, and concussions that didn't faze him. As soon as he was mended, he was back on the pitch.

Now she found herself doubly cursed with nerves. _If they kill themselves or each other, I'll never forgive them!_ She sat, wand drawn, prepared to protect them in any way she could.

Lucius may have found humor in her distress, but he offered comfort and distraction. He slipped his arm back under her robes and ran his fingers along her back, across her side, and around to her stomach and ribs. His thumb brushed back and forth under her right breast, eventually rubbing against its underside as he had her bottom lip earlier at breakfast. "They'll be fine, pet."

She felt her face turn red and buried it in the silk of his waistcoat. _I can't believe he's doing that here, at the match. Gaaah, don't let him stop. _Even as she leaned into his touch, she argued, "You don't know that – they could kill each other – crash in a big pile of crushed bones and spurting blood!"

His expression, when she looked up, was a mix of horror and amusement. "What goes on in that head of yours? Quidditch injuries are rarely fatal, and I don't recall there ever being such a one at Hogwarts." He pointed downward to the side of the pitch where Madame Pomfrey stood beside her first-aid tent. "See - your Healer is at the ready."

Minerva leaned forward to join the conversation. "Hermione, you should be more concerned that Gryffindor is losing! And rather badly, I might add. At this point, Harry might do well to end the match on his own terms. Don't you think, Lucius?"

"You're alluding to the '94 World Cup? That's certainly one option. Although I hardly think trailing by one-seventy-five is losing badly at this point. They could still catch up."

His thumb was still tracing the bottom curve of her small breast beneath the cover of her robes. Hermione worked through the fog he was creating in her head and replied, "That strategy you're talking about – it's flawed. Look – Harry and Draco are right on top of each other. Even if Draco does see the Snitch first, there's no way he can be sure that he'll grab it first. And if Harry pulls a Wronski Feint, I'll kill him myself."

Her momentary attention to something other than possible fatalities began a lively discussion of Quidditch strategy. Lucius seemed impressed with her knowledge of the game, and Hermione was slightly offended. "What – you think I've sat in these stands all these years and not paid attention? The summer between fourth and fifth years, I made a comprehensive study of Quidditch. The history alone was fascinating, and I _do_ have a prodigious memory."

"And you're sure you don't care to place a bet," Lucius coaxed. He dangled a large coin purse over her lap.

"Well," Hermione waffled, "if it's that important to you." She took the heavy velvet bag and looked inside. There had to be more than fifty Galleons, as well as some Knuts and Sickles. "I'll put twenty Galleons on Slytherin winning, and the same on Gryffindor catching the Snitch. Oh, and another twenty says that the winner will lead by 250 points."

Lucius looked pleased that she'd joined the pool even as he teased, "Betting against Draco? Whatever will he say?"

"He'll probably say I know what I'm doing."

Half an hour later, the crowd roared as The Boy Who Lived rose above the match triumphantly holding up the Golden Snitch. Madame Hooch officially ended the match, and the players descended to the grassy field below. The ending score was Slytherin 450, Gryffindor 200, and Hermione had a small, satisfied smile on her lips_._ She felt Lucius' fingers take her by the chin, turning her face towards him. He was looking at her speculatively, eyebrow raised. "That was quite a stroke of luck, pet."

"There was no luck involved," she said, with a look of mock-affront.

"You told me the variables were unpredictable, and predictions too complicated."

She replied in a smug tone, "I never said the calculations would be _too_ difficult, merely _terribly_ difficult. I ran through them this morning before I got out of bed."

He laughed a full, rich laugh and drew her into a tight hug. "Brilliant as well as beautiful, and wealthy now to boot."

Hermione remembered the velvet bag in her hand. "Oh! This is yours." She broke free of Lucius' arms and tried to hand him the purse.

Lucius closed his hand around hers and pushed it to her side. "Keep it, and add your winnings to it as well." When she began to protest, he added, "In less than a week it will belong to both of us. Until then, consider it your own."

She thanked him with a kiss to his cheek. Lucius was right – regardless of the pull they felt toward each other, their relationship demanded public dignity. He seemed to understand her thoughts, because he slipped his arm under her borrowed robes once more and ran his hand over the thin silky fabric of the shirt covering her back. "I'm looking forward to having you all to myself very soon, pet."

Hermione shivered. _He's going to have me. I'm going to be had._ "Do you have to leave soon?"

"I have a meeting with the estate manager later today. I want to be sure everything is ready for your arrival."

"Speaking of that, Molly's making a list for you of what she wants for the reception and ceremony."

"She is, is she? I was under the impression you didn't want to be left out of planning," he smirked.

"Yes, well, I've decided to delegate." She snipped, and then relented, "I couldn't care less about any of it, except . . ."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded expectantly, "Except?"

She stepped close to him again and gave in to the temptation of fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. "Except I would love to have your blue roses everywhere."

"I would love to have your blue roses everywhere," he repeated softly. He was looking at her so intently that Hermione wondered if he even knew he'd just echoed her words.

"Would it—I mean, is that even feasible?"

"As many as you could possibly want, my love." He seemed to forget his self-imposed rules of décor and leaned down to kiss her mouth. It wasn't lingering or passionate, but sweet and promise-filled. _I'm his love, and he's mine._

Bets were settled amongst the faculty and their guests, and Hermione left the tower two hundred Galleons richer. She descended the stairs with Minerva and Lucius, who walked so slowly that she could feel his reluctance to leave. At the castle entrance nearest the broom closet, the trio paused to wait for Draco, Harry, and Ginny.

The wind was just a soft breeze now at ground level, and Hermione gave Lucius back his robes. When he had put them on and fastened them, she slipped under the soft fabric and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I wish you weren't leaving so soon."

"It's just as well – Draco told me of your plans to go to the village with your friends. Besides," he spoke into her hair, "it will give you time to think about me."

"Hmmmmmm, it will. Lucius?"

He looked down at her expectantly, and she continued, "Will you bring me a blue rose tomorrow night?"

His eyes twinkled his answer, and Hermione swooned a bit. "There's Draco now. I need a word with him - wait here with Minerva."

Lucius strode towards the broom closet, from which players were now emerging. He pulled Draco to him in a close hug and clapped him on the back, holding him by the shoulders as they spoke. Hermione had never seen the two interact casually, and was fascinated by the obvious closeness between them. They talked for a few minutes, congratulating some of the passing Slytherin players, and then walked to where she waited with the professor.

Lucius thanked Minerva for accompanying them and bid her good-bye. He nodded proudly to Draco, and drew Hermione a few steps away. "Enjoy your outing."

She really didn't want him to go. "Will you kiss me good-bye?"

"That's a very silly question, pet." Lucius turned them so that his back was to their audience. He leaned down to her level, putting one hand to the back of her head and the other against her lower back, and pushed firmly until she arched into him. Hermione grabbed fistfuls of his robes to support herself as he murmured against her lips, "Of course I'm going to kiss you."

Lucius kissed her the way he had taught her earlier and she responded with delight, opening her mouth to his the moment he stroked his tongue against her lip. He was done far more quickly than she would have liked. For one brief moment, he pulled her flush against him and Hermione felt that same long, hard bulge against her abdomen. Instead of freezing this time, though, she looked up at him. _Great Merlin, he's huge._ She bit her lip uncertainly, but held his gaze. _Being with me has caused this, and he wants me to know it without being terrified._ _I'm definitely going to think about this later. A lot_. Lucius' eyes were dark as he released her and straightened to his full height. "Until tomorrow."

He led her back to Draco, gave Minerva a shallow bow, and left. Hermione watched his retreating form until it disappeared in the shadows of the castle entrance. _Who'd have thought that I'd learn to miss him so quickly?_ She shook off the brief moment of melancholy and turned to the others.

A group of freshly showered Gryffindors had gathered around Minerva in the meantime, and Harry and Ginny were with them. The Slytherin team stood to the side, nearest Draco and they acknowledged her with nods and smiles. It looked as though every player had decided to change into a clean uniform, sans gloves and greaves, and Hermione realized that included Draco. _Mother of all magic, I can stare at him in those trousers and jersey all afternoon._ Everyone was discussing the trip to Hogwarts, and arguing about how to get there.

"Let's walk – it's such a beautiful day," suggested a fifth year Slytherin girl, who had played in the match as a reserve Chaser.

"And waste all that time?" countered Ginny, "I say we fly. We can be there in ten minutes, and that's flying slowly. Besides, anyone going from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams would have left right after the match – they'll beat us to the village by a long shot if we don't hurry."

Nearly everyone agreed. _I don't want to fly! _Hermione had an uneasy feeling she was being included in her friends' plans, and turned to Draco in a slight panic. He stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, so she ended up in his arms. He bent down to whisper in her ear, "I want you to ride my Firebolt."

He blushed but held her gaze, and Hermione fought through the threat of awkwardness by channeling Lucius. She gave a little snort of laughter and replied, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Draco."

His eyes danced with humor as he tried again. "I want you to fly with me to the village. Harry told me you'd resist, but I'll keep you safe."

"I don't know . . ."

"It'll be fun."

"Not necessarily, bec—"

He interrupted in a coaxing voice, "Hermione, you'll be sitting on my lap, and I'll have my arms wrapped around you the entire time. You can hide your face in my robes, if you like."

_That sounds like the way to fly . . ._ Draco seemed to think so, too, because he immediately leaned in to steal a kiss.

"Errrrrr, only if you promise to be safe."

Draco smiled almost angelically as he said, "So, you'll ride my Firebolt if I promise to take precautions?"

She laughed again. _Does he even know when he says things like that?_ "Absolutely. But I _will_ keep my eyes closed."

"That doesn't exactly flatter my ego." He slipped off his Quidditch robes and held them out for her to put on. Hermione put her hands through the sleeves and raised her arms to tie her hair back. She watched him tie them up in the front, feeling how his hands lingered on the laces where they fell across her breasts. _He certainly likes having his hands right there_. _I'm going to ride his Firebolt. _She felt a frisson of desire run through her, and looked over his shoulder.

"Your eg- Draco, why is Pansy Parkinson looking at me like I killed her familiar?"

Hermione had just caught sight of the brunette Slytherin, who stood a small distance away and had a hateful look on her face.

The curly-headed witch felt her wizard's body tense. He rolled his eyes and said quietly, "Stay away from her. We'll talk about it later," he ducked to look Hermione directly in the eye, "understand?"

"Not really."

"I mean it, Hermione." Draco was looking at her sternly. "Stay away from Pansy Parkinson."


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi Everyone, and welcome to the last installment of the week! So many nice notes from you all! I'd like to add a few of my own:**

**Medward: you are obviously some kind of genius.**

**christina . holzman . 1: Do we really want to know what those two talk about in their Floo chats? If they're anything like my own brothers (I have a pack of them), we just don't. Although . . .**

**Honoria Granger: your grammatic gymnastics with the word 'nasty' were a 10, 10, 10, and 10.**

**RozaLove and Maria Sven, and Cullens Darlin: oh yeah, crushing on Lucius!**

**Cheryl Grant: yes, we do like naughty . . .**

**theyoungestgorgons and punkyredhead: drama with Pansy? Maybe a little, but don't get your knickers in a knot because I am NOT a writer of angst (mostly because it harshes my cheeky mellow)**

**Becca Lister (and punkyrdhd): Love your dun dun duns. Very poetic :D.**

**Gracie Laufey: This chapter is for you, because you always say 'please'.**

**Oh, and Brightki (and everyone else who's up later): Virtual drinks after the kids are in bed.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 26 – Saturday Afternoon

Hermione decided that her fear of flying must have had to do with her previous broom partners, namely Ron the Idiot and Harry the Reckless. Today, wrapped in Draco's arms and snuggled into the nook of his neck, she felt quite invincible and even kept her eyes open during their trip.

Draco had sat her sideways on the broom, so that her legs hooked over his right one, and he flew with his left arm curved around her middle. This left his right hand to hold the broomstick, and he leaned forward into her as he steered. He'd maintained a slow speed and the other flyers had passed them up quickly, except for Harry and Ginny, who looped back every so often.

Draco kept up a steady commentary in her ear, telling her of places he'd take her by broom on the estate. She was distracted from complete comprehension by the timbre of his voice and the feel of its vibrations traveling from his chest into her own body. _Sweet Circe, why does that sound do such incredible things to my body? I really need to start carrying a spare pair of knickers. _She pressed her lips to the smooth skin of his neck in a series of kisses. The wind was whipping a few of her loose curls into their faces, and Hermione unwound her hand from around Draco's side to hold them back. Realizing it was a hopeless task, she dropped her now free hand and for the rest of the ride traced the jersey-clad muscles of his chest. _Is all this from Quidditch? And it's all mine . . . _Her hand ran down his stomach, absently following a southward path of corded muscle as she continued to kiss his neck and jaw. Draco pulled her against him tightly for a moment and then said hoarsely, "Hermione — you can't do things like that to me. Not yet."

He released his grip of her long enough to take her hand from its proximity near the waistband of his trousers and bring it to his mouth for a kiss. Then he wrapped it around his shoulder, saying in her ear, "It stays here for the rest of the ride."

Hermione realized her touches had probably aroused him, and knew it was true when she felt his erection wedged against her thigh. _Oops._ Determined to avoid the awkwardness that always seemed to plague them, she kissed his jaw lightly one more time. "Sorry."

"I'm not," he rasped. They were just coming up on Hogsmeade, and Draco landed them a short distance from the tree line. Harry's Firebolt was propped against a tree, but he and Ginny were nowhere in sight. _Great. Probably desecrating some poor tree or rock formation. _When she started to climb off, Draco stopped her with his hands on her hips and continued, "but you teasing me with those little hands of yours is going to make following the rules a whole lot harder. And we _will_ be following the rules."

_Draco just called me a tease. And the way his hands are squeezing my arse tells me that no matter what he says, he liked it._ She felt another burst of confidence and said slyly, "How would you like to be teased, then?"

Draco's mouth dropped open, and Hermione took advantage of his momentary haze to escape from his grip. She scampered away from the broom, laughing. When he finally recovered, he dismounted, stood, and turned slightly from her. He made an imperious beckoning gesture over his shoulder. "My robes, if you please."

_Oh, yes – he's going to need those for a bit. _She slowly untied the Quidditch robes and slipped them off. "All right, but I want them back later."

"Whatever for?" Draco had sunk to the ground with his returned robes across his lap.

"I want to sleep in them. They're incredibly soft, and they smell like you. What?" She asked when he groaned, scrunched his face up, and shook his head several times.

"Not helping, Hermione."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling, enjoying the power she felt at his loss of control but not completely comprehending it. "Fine. How about your jersey, then?"

"My jersey. On you. In your bed." Draco's eyes were slightly glazed again, and suddenly Hermione felt very, very badly for behaving in such a poor manner. _I've driven him into a state, and if he thinks about something he doesn't want to say aloud, Rule Number One will zap him. What kind of fiancée am I?_

"Oh, Draco! I'm so sorry for teasing you. Can I . . . errrr, is there . . . what I mean is, what can I do to help?"

Draco scrubbed his hand over his face a few times. He looked at her sternly and said, "Hermione, this is not a request. For the next ten minutes, you are going to sit beside me and talk about Arithmancy. You are not to look at me, touch me, or use that sexy tone of voice. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Draco." She looked at him with tenderness in her heart, which quickly morphed back to desire as she noticed the way he sat with his arms draped over bent knees and head hanging down. _That wizard is all mine, and I want to—_

"Hermione? Arithmancy?"

"Oops. Ummm, Arithmancy is a very precise, very measurable, and almost scientific method of predicting the future . . . "

She talked away with great determination, and eventually Draco relaxed and lay back in the grass. His eyes closed, and at some point he reached out to hold her hand in his. They were joined by Harry and Ginny just as Hermione was waxing philosophical about the moral implications of Arithmancy. Harry, for once, looked quite put together for having been with one of his loves. Ginny, on the other hand, didn't. Her shirt was buttoned up crookedly, her skirt was a mess, and her beautiful red hair was a snarled riot. She wore only one shoe and was carrying the other, but on her face was a look of absolute contentment.

Hermione took one look at her and forgot Arithmancy immediately. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you come with me right now! _You_," here she gestured at Harry angrily, "will stay here! We'll be less than fifteen meters away. Honestly," she continued as the two girls walked towards the near tree line, "You're like rabbits on Love Potion!"

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hermione asked, "You look remarkably blissful. Is this something I should know about?"

Ginny sighed and smiled absently at the curly-headed witch as they entered the privacy of the trees. Hermione set her to rights with a few well-aimed swishes of her wand and they leaned against a large fallen trunk. Ginny had that look she and Luna usually wore after they'd been with Harry. Her face was flushed, lips swollen, and her eyes were very bright. She looked at her friend. "You'll get to it eventually."

"Tell me." _There's no one else to ask, besides Molly and Minerva. And I'd rather go to my bridal bed ignorant than ask them anything about sex. Ever._

"How about you tell me why you're lecturing your fiancé on Arithmancy in the middle of a field?" The redhead looked as though she already knew.

"I didn't realize that the stomach was such an erogenous zone, and may have stirred Draco up a bit on the broom ride."

Ginny smirked knowingly, and Hermione continued, "Then I told him I wanted to sleep in his jersey, just to tease him, but that seemed like the wrong thing to say."

"He told you to start talking numbers instead?"

"Mmmhmmm. Was that terrible of me, Gin?"

Her friend laughed softly. "That depends on whether or not you're trying to slowly torture Draco to death. You do realize that image is a big turn on for him?"

"Sleeping in his shirt?" She wasn't sure how that would . . .

"Hellooooo, 'Mione – think about it. You, with nothing else on but Draco's jersey, tucked in your dorm room bed. Your skin being touched all over by fabric that was just worn by his own body."

Hermione's entire body pulsed with desire at the picture painted in her mind. She blushed to the roots of her hair but smiled a little in realization as Ginny continued, "And Draco's now in torment, knowing that something of his will soon be in your bed. That's neither wrong nor terrible – it's genius. Except that you obviously had no idea exactly what you were doing to him, and so he needed to think about something else _quickly_."

"Thanks, Ginny. You're much better at explaining guy stuff than Harry."

Her friend cocked an eyebrow in disdain. "I grew up in a house with seven men. There's nothing I haven't seen or heard accidentally, and unfortunately nothing I've forgotten. Plus I had Charlie – he's the one who answered all _my_ questions."

_I turned on Draco with my hands, and then with just words._ She tucked that idea aside for future analysis. _Ginny's a great friend_. That thought encouraged her to offer, "I kissed Lucius this morning."

The redhead squealed, bolting upright and leaning forward in interest. "Tell me everything," she ordered.

Hermione grinned. For the next ten minutes, she regurgitated every gesture, word, sensation, and thought that had occurred during the breakfast visit and match. Her vivid descriptions elicited several more squeals from Ginny before she was through. Finally, she suggested that they head back to the wizards waiting in the field, adding, "Now you owe me. I want to know what you and Harry were doing that made you look so . . . blissfully happy. And I want to know soon."

Ginny nodded. "Fair enough. For now, let's just say that tandem broom rides always stir me up."

"I think I might know what you mean." The two headed back towards their wizards, who were dozing in the sun. Not long after, the four of them walked into the Three Broomsticks after parking the brooms outside.

Madam Rosemerta had obviously been given warning of the impending crowd, because she had brought in extra help. Several waitresses bustled about with trays of sloshing butterbeer tankards, and there was an extra hand at the bar as well. The pub was full of brightly uniformed Quidditch players, as well as other students. Tables had been pushed together to make room for larger groups, and there didn't seem to be any segregation by teams.

Far across the room, Luna waved cheerfully to them from a long table partly filled with some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. They made their way between students, pausing here and there to exchange pleasantries. Once again, Draco's fellow Slytherins nodded politely to her, and several used her name in a familiar way. It was as if Draco had talked about her so much that they felt as though they knew her.

She noticed that Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle each had short, quiet, earnest conversations with Draco several times, that Goyle had a similar one with Harry, and that Pansy Parkinson seemed to be everywhere at once. She alternated between gazing at Draco intently and then looking Hermione up and down with disdain. Hermione thought about her wizard's earlier words.

When they finally sat, Hermione realized that many of the Slytherins had followed them to Luna's table – more than there were chairs for, in fact. Another table was drawn up, and more chairs scrounged, but in the end, there were students leaned against the wall and propped on the backs of occupied chairs. She was surprised by the friendly atmosphere between the teams that had just played so competitively against each other, and said as much to her 'brother'.

Harry shrugged. "It's true – during matches we'd gladly kill each other to win, but afterward we're all just fans of the same sport. Isn't that right, Malfoy?"

"Rivalry is exhausting, and the war's over. I'll take this company at the end of any day," agreed Draco. He sat beside her, his arm around her waist.

Greg Goyle leaned over Harry's shoulder and added with a wink to Hermione, "Besides, we won. We can afford to be friendly to you mangy lions."

The table erupted in laughter, which only quieted when a waitress came to take orders. Harry sat with his girls across from Hermione and Draco. He grinned boyishly around the table, light reflecting off his glasses, and said, "Well, shall we start with the toasts, or the roasts?"

The next hour was spent immersed in memories. Toasts were given in honor of players who either hadn't returned to finish their final year, or hadn't survived the war at all. Others were raised to entire teams who had set records or played with distinction. Finally, there were the roasts. Draco and Harry teased each other mercilessly, and Hermione's sides ached from laughing so hard. When they had finished their jibes, Harry stood and raised his glass one last time to Draco. "To the Prince of Slytherin, who won the final game but lost the Snitch. You've been a worthy opponent."

Draco's response was to lean back in his chair, glass raised, smirking in the way only he could. "To the Boy Who Lived, who saved the wizarding world, who caught the Snitch, only to _lose_ to this worthy opponent. You've been my favorite adversary as well. And incidentally, Potter," he added, "I caught my Snitch a week ago Thursday."

Draco's arm tightened around Hermione's waist, drawing her against his side as the occupants of their table broke out in table-pounding and some loud cheering. She blushed to the roots of her hair and turned to hide her face against his shoulder.

"That was a bit cheesy, don't you think?" Hermione asked quietly.

His reply was brimming with smug confidence. "Not if _I_ say it. I'm going to hunt down the waitress, since she seems to have disappeared. Be back in a bit."

Hermione felt his absence at once. Shortly after that she felt the complaint of her full bladder, and caught Ginny's eye, mouthing, '_loo_.' Ginny nodded and walked around the table, hooking her arm through that of the curly-headed witch. She said loudly, "Come on, 'Mione. Let's go powder our noses, or whatever it is that witches who don't have six brothers say when they have to pee."

The wizards at the table laughed in appreciation, and Harry said, "I'll walk with you." She noticed that he seemed to be looking for something or someone on the short trek to the loo, and, for a moment, appeared to be considering going into the girls' room with them.

On their way back, Hermione caught a glimpse of pale blonde hair and paused by the bar. Draco seemed to be standing alone in the crowd, lost in thought, but as she approached she saw Pansy standing before him. The tall brunette had one hand on Draco's robes against his chest and the other reaching toward his face, and she was leaning into him as she talked.

Hermione froze, watching the scene before her. _Why is Draco allowing Pansy to touch him like that?_ For a moment, she let herself give in to a fierce and angry possessiveness. Thankfully, she looked at Draco's face again, and realized he wasn't lost in thought at all, but trying to remain calm. In fact, he looked very, very upset. In a move that reminded her of his avoidance of Ron in the dungeon hallway, he stepped back abruptly, firmly snapping his robes out of the witch's hand. Hermione crept closer, trying to catch their conversation through the noise of the crowd.

Draco was speaking. "Please stop. That's inappropriate, and you know it."

She gave a small, confident smile and arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong with inappropriate, Draco?"

Hermione noticed Greg Goyle on the far side of her wizard and the brunette witch, and he seemed to be watching them with grim concentration. Vincent Crabbe must have drifted over from their table as well; he now stood besides her, holding a hand up as if warning her not to move. Her eyes went back to Draco, and noticed how tightly the muscles of his face were set in that mask of calm.

"I think you should go." His tone was frigid, and even though the remark wasn't directed at Hermione, she flinched.

Pansy countered, "I don't have to go anywhere, Draco. These are my friends, too. Isn't that right, Greg?" She looked up at the huge Slytherin. Hermione noticed the brunette's confidence falter when she saw the forbidding expression on Goyle's face. He didn't answer.

Vincent Crabbe spoke up, making his presence known. His deep voice sounded pleasant enough as he said, "Come on, Pans. Let's you and I go find Vaisey and congratulate him on the game. I think he's back at our table."

The giant Beater hooked his arm through Pansy's and dragged her with him, physically removing her from the scene, but she kept her hateful gaze on Hermione until the crowd separated them.

"Guess I'll be back on bedbug duty after this." Greg Goyle's voice growled from where he was standing beside her, causing her to jump.

"I'm sorry – what?"

"Oh," he said, as if realizing he had an audience for the first time, "nothing for you to worry about."

Then he was gone, and Draco was walking towards her with a scowl on his face. He leaned down and pulled her against him with that same angry roughness that had been present after the chaperone fiasco with Ron, burying his face in her hair. She stroked the back of his neck gently until he seemed to calm. When Draco pulled away, he said, "Did you see that?"

"I saw something. Why was she touching you like that?"

"We'll talk when we get back to school. Ready to go soon?"

Hermione looked around. Other than Draco and her friends, there was no compelling reason to stay. "Whenever you are. Draco, Goyle said something about being back on bedbug duty. What did he mean?"

Her wizard's face darkened so much that for a second, Hermione thought his sudden anger was directed at her. "He'll be my roommate again until school's done. Let's find Potter and his girls."

With a brief, private word to Goyle and then Harry, Draco led their group from the Three Broomsticks. They took off immediately, flying much faster than they had on before. Draco remained silent, but his arms felt comforting, and he rubbed his fingers along her ribcage gently. Not ten minutes later, both brooms landed as if by prearrangement near the lake.

Hermione found herself being dragged away from the other two in the direction of the same outcropping of rock they'd picnicked behind a few days earlier. Draco sank to the ground and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She drew him down for a kiss and then asked, "So, is Greg the bedbug, or are you?"

No response. She tried again. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, Draco?"

He seemed to be arguing with himself internally, and finally began, "Pansy Parkinson is the biggest bitch I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"She does have a certain reputation."

"Lucius thinks that she came to school with expectations of being the Malfoy wife. Her actions for the past eight years certainly support the theory." Draco paused to sigh heavily, and continued, "She has done everything possible to ingratiate herself on Lucius and my friends, and permanently tie herself to me – and this started long before she had an inkling that we'd found our bespoken one."

"What kinds of things?"

Draco looked at her hesitantly. "Trying to slip various love potions into my drinks. Setting up compromising situations and attempting to be caught in them with me. Dropping hints to my friends about our alleged activities, and," here he winced, "breaking into my room and waiting for me in my bed, undressed."

_Pansy's the bedbug. Greg Goyle became his roommate to keep her away._ His last words broke through her mini-revelation just then, and her vision became tinted with red. She may have shrieked a bit. "You saw Pansy naked?!"

"Actually, no. I realized the Colloportus I'd put on my room had been broken, and suspected Pansy. Greg and Vincent volunteered to go in first – they were the ones who actually saw her."

"I hope you burned the sheets!"

Draco finally gave one of his beautiful almost-smiles. "Actually, that night I moved into Greg's room, and stayed there for the better part of the last two years; my housemates have been running interference far longer than that."

His expression sobered, and he continued, "Hermione, she is the culmination of the very worst of Slytherin traits. That little scene you witnessed in the pub – that was most likely created for your viewing pleasure. I think she finally accepts the fact that there's no chance for her with me, and so she's going to turn her attention to you. I want you to stay far away from her. If she suspects any insecurity or vulnerability on your part, she'll take great delight in destroying what we're working to build."

"Try to make me doubt you, and drive a wedge between us?"

"If for no other reason than to make me miserable."

"She really is a bitch, and a stupid one at that, if she thinks I'm going to let that happen." She stroked the muscles of his chest lightly, remembering at the last minute to keep her fingers from straying to his stomach, and tipped her head up in an invitation to a kiss, adding, "Now come here and let me show you what Lucius taught me this morning."

Draco leaned his head down to hers eagerly, and Pansy Parkinson was forgotten the moment Hermione swiped her tongue against his bottom lip.


	27. Chapter 27

**Hi Peeps! Lots more new friends have joined the ride - welcome, and fasten your seatbelt! Thanks for the sweet notes and funny comments. I love to read your thoughts!**

**Some of you have been whining about the pace of this little plot. Buck up, little campers! Think of our poor sweet heroine, and all the adjustments she needs time to make! If I had indeed made the chapters longer, as some have suggested, you would only have gotten bi-monthly updates. It's true. And so my advice to you, in the transatlantic and often condescending tone of my mother, is this: Ladies do not whine. (although when you do it with little smiley faces and heart-things, it's a bit adorable. And I will absolutely ****_not_**** tell her if you do. In return, please don't tell her that I'm writing this. Because I'm fairly terrified of my mother ****_still_****.)**

**Tonight this silly story hit 100,000 views. I cried a bit . . .**

**Leave some love, leave some criticism, just for goodness sake ****_don't _****leave Ron and Pansy alone too long. They need supervision!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 27

Saturday – Evening

The curly-headed witch had reached her limit of patience and fidgeted in her chair, earning her a swat from Ginny. "'Mione, sit still or I'm going to drive one of these hair pins into you on purpose!"

The two witches were in Hermione's room getting ready for the Ravenclaw party, and they'd been at it since their return to the castle a few hours ago. At first, Hermione had been perfectly content to follow Ginny's bossy orders, especially when it involved borrowing the prefects' bath to enjoy a long soak in a fragrant, bubble-filled tub. Now, though, her friend's constant nattering had finally broken through her daydreams and she was ready to be done. She struggled to find her focus again, and concentrated on her last moments with Draco a while ago . . .

_The time they'd had by lake was short, and despite the fact that they'd see each other in a few hours, Draco had pulled her into his arms for one more embrace. He'd lifted her onto the bottom step of the tower staircase, somewhat evening their height difference, and kissed her until she was dizzy. His hands, which had started at her waist, slid down over her slender hips and probably would have continued around to her bum had one not encountered her small purse and its bulging contents. He'd drawn back from her lips enough to murmur, "Still packing like a fugitive?"_

_"Mmm-mmm. It's just the present Lucius gave me this morning." She'd leaned back toward his mouth, but suddenly Draco seemed more interested in the package. _

_"Let me see it."_

_"Why? It looks exactly like the one you gave me on Thursday."_

_"I was hoping so. Wear it tonight," he whispered in her ear as his hands went back to her hips and pulled her closer to him. _

_Hermione had been physically aching with desire intermittently since Lucius' lesson in kissing early that morning. Now she was resisting the urge to pull herself flush to Draco_ _and roll her hips against his. She thought to herself, 'I need release. This is what Ginny meant by being 'needy.' She fought against the haze that threatened to take over her brain. "I told Lucius I'd wear it for tomorrow's visit. You'll see it then, Draco." _

_He was pulling away from her, letting his hands slide from her body. "I won't be there; we've agreed he's getting shorted on time with you. Wear it for me tonight, instead."_

_"I will. Meet us here at eight o'clock?"_

_His answer was a trademark smirk. 'I'm going to wipe that right off his face,' she thought suddenly, remembering her talk with Ginny outside of Hogsmeade. Out loud, she said, "Oh, and I believe we agreed that you'd give me your jersey."_

_His reaction was satisfying. Knowing she'd got the last word, Hermione held out her arm in the same imperious gesture he'd used in the field outside Hogsmeade. Draco quickly wrestled out of the piece of uniform in question and pulled it over his head. The curly-headed witch gave a smirk of her own, slowly untying his robes and letting them slip from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She took the proffered shirt and slid it on over her clothes, noting with satisfaction that its hem fell over that of her skirt, effectively hiding it._

_"Thank you. See you at eight," she'd said, and motioned for Harry and Ginny to follow her up the stairs. When she finally dared to cast a glance over her shoulder, a few dozen steps up, her wizard was still standing where she'd left him, eyes locked on her legs._

Ginny pushed the last hairpin into place and looked at her friend in an appraising way, saying, "You'll do."

Hermione looked in the mirror and grinned with delight. The second gift-dress had turned out to be the complete opposite of the first. It was a strapless white dress with a frothy, above-the-knee skirt and (for her), a rather daring décolletage. It was a cunning combination of innocence and sex, and her first thought had been that it didn't fit within the parameters of her rules. Ginny had rolled her eyes, ordered her to get dressed, and then proceeded to torture her mercilessly by pinning up her hair.

Now, in front of the mirror, her second thought was that she wanted to sit in Lucius' lap in this dress. She remembered the way he'd traced the shoulder strap of the grey dress, and her mind's eye saw him running his finger along the dipping front of this one, tickling the exposed skin of the inner sides of her breasts as he did so. She gave an involuntary shiver, and Ginny noticed. "Enough fantasizing about your wizards – what, you didn't think I knew what you were doing all this time? Clear your head and put on your shoes. It's time to meet Harry downstairs. And lengthen the chain on your necklace another inch – tonight you've actually got cleavage to decorate."

Harry was ready and waiting, and they also found Draco waiting when the trio arrived at the base of the tower. She physically felt his gaze as it trailed over her body, and flushed with the knowledge that he liked what he saw. Hermione smiled self-consciously as he walked toward her. Her heart began racing.

"Hello, little witch. Care to walk across this dark castle with me?" He was looming over her in that way of his that forced her to arch her back and neck to see his face. His eyes were on the dragon charm that lay in the exposed valley between her breasts, and he was smirking smugly. She'd noticed that since this morning Draco seemed incredibly confident in their interactions, and attributed it to the success of the Quidditch match. It was very sexy.

_I guess he likes where his namesake is resting tonight._ "Only if I can bring along my chaperone and his scary girlfriend. Surely you understand."

Draco raised an eyebrow and twinkled at her. "Absolutely. I'm sure I can find a way to get you all to myself at some point."

_That would be just fine with me_. The aching want that had plagued her intermittently all day flared up again, and her eyes traveled slowly over her wizard, admiring the way he filled out his clothes. Draco usually favored dark-colored clothing, and wore black or dark grey trousers and jackets under his even blacker robes. Tonight he had forgone a jacket, wearing only a white button-down shirt opened at the collar and rolled up over his forearms. He had an emerald green tie knotted loosely around his neck and black robes draped over his arm. Overall, he was a study in decadent luxury and Hermione wanted nothing more than to go traipsing through any dark place alone with him.

Meanwhile, Ginny had grown impatient. "Alright, you two! Enough flirting. We have a party to attend!"

They set off at once, and twenty minutes later arrived outside the propped-open portrait door to the Ravenclaw tower. They were admitted by a sixth year and stood just inside the door to get their bearings. The normally sedate room had been darkened to allow the magical ceiling, which was similar to the one in the great hall, to provide most of the light with a constant show of meteor showers, comets, and northern lights. The effect was reminiscent of a Muggle nightclub, Hermione thought. Loud music was pulsed over a large dance floor in the center of the room, but had been magically restrained so that conversation was possible along the table-lined outer walls of the tower.

Luna saw them then, and ran to jump into Harry's arms and whisper in his ear. He looked at her in a dazed manner, nodded, and hightailed it further into the commons without looking back.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked Ginny.

Luna overheard and turned, smiling in her absent way. Ginny shook her head firmly, but the blonde witch seemed not to notice. "Oh! We're giving Harry a special treat tonight, seeing as he just got his formal acceptance letter for the internship at the DMLE."

Luna certainly looked excited, and Draco said in a friendly tone, "That's terrific news for you all, I'm sure. What's the surprise, Luna?"

It looked like Ginny was trying to hide her face behind her hand as she pretended to pay attention to something else as Luna happily answered, "We're going to let Harry watch Ginny and me eat each other! It's one of his favorite fantasies."

There was no stock reply to use for such a statement, but Hermione did her best. "Well, errrr don't forget to brush your teeth afterward, the both of you . . . gotta go."

She fled, dragging a speechless Draco toward the food and drink tables and rounded on him when they got there. "Please tell me that isn't a common male fantasy, Draco, because it's never going to happen for you."

He answered without hesitation, "First of all, I won't share, nor will Lucius. Secondly," here he leaned down and murmured in her ear, "that practice seems like a waste of valuable resources."

_Did he just say . . . _She flushed vermillion and shook her head to clear the sudden mental image of Draco's head between her legs. "Alcohol. I need at least one drink, probably two, and a quiet corner in which to hide until my face is no longer dark red."

Draco had the grace to say, "No one can tell that you're blushing in his light, if that helps, and I apologize if that made you uncomfortable."

"No you shouldn't, and it didn't. You should be able to say whatever you want to me. I just have a bad habit of visualizing every double entendre you make. Do you even realize when you do it?"_ He didn't apologize for actually saying it – he DID mean it! What a Slytherin snake!_

His smirk was answer enough, especially when he added in an undertone, "Have I told you that you look positively edible tonight?"

Even as she blushed still darker, Hermione snorted with laughter. _MY Slytherin snake. I like confident Draco. But I'll bet he's blushing, too._ "There's been a shift in your confidence today. Does Quidditch always make you so cocky, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Absolutely. Of course, there's a good chance my date tonight has something to do with it as well."

She wrapped his willing arm around her and grabbed hold of his tie, hiding her burning, smiling face in his robes. Their peers had taken notice of their arrival and there was a lot of whispering and staring going on. A seventh year Hufflepuff wizard, with whom Hermione had several advanced classes, looked as though he was about to approach her, but one glance at Draco seemed to change his mind.

Several of Draco's Slytherin friends nodded as they passed, and Vincent Crabbe winked roguishly at her after exchanging pleasantries with her wizard. She grinned back, struck by his friendliness toward her. _I think he's thought of me as Draco's witch for a long time._ She liked him even more when she heard that he and Greg Goyle were splitting the evening's job of keeping Pansy Parkinson busy and away from Ravenclaw tower. Crabbe finished by saying, "I'm here 'til ten if you need anything, Draco. I'll be around."

They had reached the tables laden with refreshments. Draco used his free hand to pick up two butterbeers – Ravenclaw wasn't nearly as generous with the alcohol – and then steered them towards one of the tables pushed against the far wall.

Hermione took the opportunity presented by Crabbe's leaving to ask, "Draco, why do Vince and Greg treat you the way they do?"

He looked at her as if the answer were obvious, and when she continued to look at him questioningly, said, "Their families have been allies of ours for generations. We employ them for purposes of protection. They're . . . they're like bodyguards," he winced and added, "among other things."

She chose to ignore that last part, focusing instead on the idea of the two students working for her fiancé. "So they spend their free time watching over you."

"You as well."

The interactions between the three wizards puzzled her. By their conversations and mannerisms, she would have assumed they were very close friends. And they were still students. How did it work? So many questions . . . "But are they your friends, or employees?"

Draco looked confused. "Of course they're not employees yet. They're still students. Still, the roles of our families are deeply ingrained. And when they do begin to accept payment for their services, why can't they be both? Greg and Vince have pledged their lives to the Malfoys, in the tradition of their respective families, and after you and Lucius, they're the most important people in the world to me. Who better to have as friends?"

"You forget that this part of your world is still new to me," she smiled at him, shaking her head "I like it, though. I'm glad someone protects my wizards."

Reaching an open table, Draco sank into a chair and held out his arms to her. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she acquiesced and sat across his legs. She felt him sigh into her hair as he drew her close. She leaned against his shoulder for a moment, watching the activity in the crowded room, noticing her 'brother' and his girls were nowhere in sight. _Thank Merlin_.

Draco was rubbing a small, soft circle over the point of her pelvic bone. "This is quite a different seating arrangement from our last party together."

She turned to him and smiled, remembering how he'd repeated their first conversation from the Slytherin party at the match earlier in the day. _My sweet snake. _She kissed his cheek tenderly, replying, "I much prefer this one."

"You really do look lovely tonight. It's a good thing everyone knows you belong to me." Draco moved his hand to play with her necklace at the back of her neck, raising it off her skin, and worked the chain through his fingers until he eventually held the dragon charm in his grasp.

Being his possession didn't sound like a bad thing at all when he said it, but she responded firmly, "I hope you know that I own you, too."

"You have since fourth year, witch," he countered against the corner of her mouth. For a moment, Hermione was tempted to kiss him, but she was distracted again by the goings on around her.

A thought occurred to her a while later, and she said "You do realize that I'm not always so compliant, Draco – this last week I've been struggling to keep up with all . . . this. Sooner or later you're going to be introduced to the bossy, opinionated side of me."

"I expect nothing less. Remember, I've been aware of you far longer than you've been of me. I've seen what a pain you can be." The kiss he stole softened his words, and the young witch smiled against his lips.

"Perhaps we can learn to take turns being in charge." Hermione turned her attention back to the movement around her. Her wizard was far more interested in toying with her dragon charm and murmuring in her ear than what was going on around him, and his fingers may have accidentally brushed against the lush flesh exposed by her deep neckline when she clutched his hand. He looked up with a guilty look that morphed to concern as he saw her expression. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

She barely nodded her head towards a point across the room, and he turned slightly. There, walking towards their table, was Ron Weasley.

He looked remarkably normal for having been through the family meeting she'd envisioned. At the very least, Hermione had expected him to look upset or downhearted, and she certainly thought he'd be sporting the evidence of some hex, or maybe even a black eye. Instead, he looked as he did every other day – pale, rumpled, and slightly stupid. _What could I have possibly been thinking for all those years? He's no catch at all!_ She noticed the wide berth everyone gave him and the looks he was receiving. It was the first time she'd seen him at such an event alone.

Ron also looked irritated. He was making his way straight toward them through the crowd, eyes fixed on her. She felt Draco's arm clamp her more closely to his torso as he continued to slide the dragon charm slowly back and forth on its chain near her chest. The two watched as the redhead approached their table, pulled up a chair facing them, and sat down.

"Right. So, the thing is, I need to talk to 'Mione. Alone. Scram, Malfoy." His tone matched his abrupt movements. He ran his eyes up and down the curly-headed witch in a way that made her skin crawl, looked expectantly at Draco, and reached across the small table towards Hermione's hand. "Now."

Quickly she moved her hand away. _If he looks at me that way again I'm going to hex his bits right off. _Suddenly she felt a swooping sensation in her head, as if she were on a large ship altering its course at sea. She blinked several times. _The whole room just tipped to the left. This has to do with him being here._ Draco didn't say anything, but his hand had dropped the charm to run slowly over the bare skin of her shoulder and upper back. _Oh, for Merlin's sake – he all but lifted his leg and peed on me._

She took advantage of her wizard's silence. "Go away, Mr. Weasley. I have nothing to say to you."

Ron looked shocked. "Hermione! You have _no idea_ what I've just been through, and it's all your fault! Are you leaving or not, Ferret?"

"No, I don't think I will," he drawled, sounding eerily like Lucius.

"Don't—Who do you think you are, anyway? 'Mione and me, we've been together for years. You show up last week out of the blue and suddenly, what – you think you own her?"

Draco's bored tone was belied by the tense grip he still had on her. "You were together? Hermione, were you aware of that? No? And in answer to your question, yes - I do own her. Isn't that right, little witch?"

Hermione couldn't control the loud, almost hysterical giggle that came bursting out. There was that buzzing, pins-and-needles feeling in her brain, and she felt distinctly . . . funny. She closed her eyes for a moment. "You do. I'm all yours and Lucius', and no one else's."

She felt his hand leave her shoulder and opened her eyes to see it hovering over his wand pocket at his side. Ron snapped, "That's the thing. You're supposed to be a Weasley wife – mine. You accepted the wrong stake, and now I'm to be turned away from my family. You need to make this right!"

Hermione pressed a hand to her eyes and swayed slightly, thankful for Draco's arm around her. "Leave. I don't have to do anything. Don't you have some," she tried to look at him, but her head tipped into Draco's cheek drunkenly, "girl to chase?" _Where's Lisa Turpin when you need her?_

Draco took her by the chin and turned her head toward him. "Are you alright?"

Talking was definitely an underrated skill - she was having trouble making her tongue form the right sounds, and the result was a distinct slurred effect. "Lucius was right. I don't think our covenant likes him this close to me." She tried turning toward Ron again. "I really don't like you, Ron Weasley."

Ron was louder now, his voice cutting through the fuzziness in her brain. "Are you _drunk?_ I'm to be disowned – this isn't about how _you_ feel! _Merlin_, 'Mione, how can you be so selfish?!" His fist pounded down on the table.

Suddenly Draco didn't sound so bored, and Hermione was certain if she'd been able to open her eyes she'd see that he was pointing his wand at the redhead across from them. "Enough."

"I feel odd. Make 'im go 'way, Draco," she slurred against his collar. Through the waves of vertigo, she felt Draco stand with her in his arms and begin walking. The music and moving lights in the ceiling really weren't helping, and they must have cut across the dance floor, because she was being jostled as if they were moving through a thick crowd. Draco was arguing with someone, ordering them to get away repeatedly. He was speaking loudly and sounded very upset, and then he was calling even more loudly what sounded like Harry's name. She drifted into a soft, puffy cloud of unconsciousness, and her last somewhat lucid thoughts were that there were an awful lot of people quite close to her, and a few of them had just recently brushed their teeth.


	28. Chapter 28

**Hi Everybody! Well, it's Tuesday; and since ****_I _****was going to be here, and ****_you _****were planning to be here, I thought 'what-the-warm-place' - let's have an update! **

**Thank you so kindly for the very kind words and encouragement; sometimes I'm in the midst of fighting with these characters, and all it takes is pulling out the big guns - you know, like '****_Slytherinmummy likes you JUST the way I write you, Ronald Weasley!'_**** or '****_Franka wrote that note to ME, not you, Lucius! So stop with the diva routine!'_**

**A few notes:**

**Dahlia Rose-Marie and Poseidon's Tribute, thanks for giving this silly story a chance! Glad to have you along for the ride.**

**LadyinRed, itsamia, pinkgiraffe17, cloe3511, StarPotterGirl, Kermit 304, latina-pr, Alesia G, Cat 130, and LadyNorth76: Big loud air-kisses to each of you! Thanks for the notes!**

**Gracey Laufey, Lilith 394, Emmett Mccarty lover, shaymars, pheonlynx, HDE (that's your new nickname 'cause fanfiction keeps cutting your pen-name off) and christine holzman (same thing to you): You lovely people make me smile every time I see your pen-name pop up! **

**Brightki, You're going to kill me for promising you Lucius tonight, although I did deliver technically. I would run and hide, but I know you're just going to hunt me down via PM . . . (smiles endearingly and takes off running). Talk to you lates!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 28

Saturday – Evening

When she became aware of her surroundings again, Hermione found herself in the infirmary with a blurry host of familiar faces surrounding her cot. Harry, Ginny, and Luna leaned over her, while a pale blonde head did the same on the other side. Someone with a very large hand was holding one of hers, she thought. She must have dozed off again, because when she awoke, Lucius sat near her head. She tried to sit up, but he held her to her pillow with a finger to her forehead. _Is it Sunday evening already? I don't think I'm ready for our visit._ _I'm wearing hospital pyjamas._

Just then, Madam Pomfrey pushed between Harry and Luna, ordering, "Back away, all of you. She's not dying, for Merlin's sake!"

The matron carried a laden tray, which she set on the cot-side table. She poured out a glass of water and a large dose of something strong-smelling. "Now sit up and drink this down. And don't bother with these _malingerers_ until your head feels clearer. I'll be back shortly."

The young witch downed the potion obediently. _Oh - just Vitamix Potion_, _thank Circe._ Its strong peppermint fumes seemed to penetrate her skull, and she began to feel more like herself almost immediately. She turned to Lucius, who sat nearest her head. "What on earth are you doing here?"

His eyebrows were drawn in displeasure, or perhaps concern. It was the same frown he'd worn years ago, when she'd been brought as a prisoner to his house. "Draco Floo'd me after they'd brought you here, and I Apparated directly here with Albus' permission. What happened?"

Hermione sat up slowly, and Ginny stepped forward to rearrange her pillows. "Stop fussing over me – I'm perfectly fine! I think I . . . fainted," she replied in a questioning tone, looking to her friends for an answer.

"You did. It was the same thing that happened Wednesday," answered Draco.

"Well, this is just ridiculous. If the covenant is responsible, it doesn't make any sense. I mean, really – how are vertigo and fainting going to do anything to help when I'm around someone it doesn't like? I can't even defend myself," she huffed.

Harry spoke up. "The Headmaster is looking into it right now, 'Mione. Until we know more, Ron will be forbidden to approach you. He won't be able to get near enough to cause you any more trouble."

She reached for the glass of water on the table, and three sets of hands shot out to help her. The young witch glared at each face. "If you insist on treating me like a damsel in distress, I will insist that you leave at once. _All_ of you," she added to her wizards in particular.

The Vitamix Potion was a good antidote for her condition, and by the time Madam Pomfrey returned, Hermione was determined to leave. "Oh, no, Miss Granger. You'd better make yourself comfortable, because you'll be spending the night here. The effects of Vitamix are temporary, and from what your friends have told me, your symptoms persisted for several hours earlier this week."

It was true, but Hermione stubbornly refused to admit it. She argued, "I don't know why it matters where I sleep. I'll have three other Gryffindors to see me safely to the tower, and then what could possibly happen to me?"

"You're staying, and that's final. I'll be back later with your bedtime potions." The matron turned at the foot of the bed, adding, "Don't make me magically restrain you as well, Miss Granger. I won't hesitate to do so."

She crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back against her pillows crossly. Harry smiled in relief. "Now _there's_ the Hermione we've all missed this past week! Welcome back. And," here he turned to Draco and Lucius with a knowing smile, "good luck, you two. Come on girls, time to go."

Ginny squeezed her hand and Luna checked under her cot for something that sounded like red-trembled umbloots. "All clear, 'Mione! Sweet dreams," the blonde witch called sweetly as she was dragged away by the other two.

She glared at the ceiling for as long as possible, until finally Lucius cleared his throat. The sound struck a chord within her, and she was sure it was part of some recent memory. _Where have I heard that before? _She refocused and looked toward him, only to find that he looked _amused_. "What's funny about any of this?"

For once his twinkling eyes had no effect on her, and she ranted, "This is all your fault, you know - you two and your possessive covenant. A week ago I could have knocked Ron's lights out, and now I've been reduced to a swooning maiden! Is that what you want – a weakling, unable to defend herself? Because that's what I feel like!"

The familiar voice of the Headmaster spoke from behind Lucius and Draco. "In my humble opinion, such a witch would be a much less suitable wife for your wizards. The three of you are quite like-minded. Have you not noticed how well matched you are in character? Perhaps instead of being reduced to something less, you have been given different tools with which to achieve your goal. Sometimes the things we see as weaknesses are merely undeveloped strengths."

His short speech was met with a somewhat stony glance from the young witch, and he continued, "Good evening, Miss Granger. I trust you are feeling . . . better?"

"If by better, sir, you mean frustrated and confused, then yes. And I'm not sure why I'm even here. There's nothing really wrong with me, other than a possible inner-ear imbalance."

"I hope to help with that. What do you know of covenants, Miss Granger?"

_Oh, here we go again. If he holds out something – anything – for me to take, I'm going to hex him._ "Nothing, other than what you told me after you'd got me to accept a war-stake imbued with one."

He ignored her jibe, continuing, "No two are alike. Some are quite simple and easily satisfied, while others are extremely complex. I believe we talked about their varying degrees of sentience. And, of course, with sentience comes emotion. Love, hate, protectiveness, jealousy – these are things all sentient beings are capable of feeling. I have been talking with my brother – you do know of Aberforth, Miss Granger?"

"I've met him, yes."

"He spent a good deal of his earlier years researching covenants. Fascinating things, he says. Never having liked our family's own, I have assiduously avoided them my entire life."

"And does Aberforth know why this is happening to our witch?" Lucius' voice cut in sharply.

"He is willing to explain what he can. Obviously, he will not be acquainted with the specifics of your family's covenant. I have asked him to meet with us in the morning."

Draco asked, "And she'll safe here? He'll stay away?" The 'he' was obviously Ron, and Hermione sat up quickly.

"Actually, I'd like to have a come-to-Merlin meeting with that idiot. Draco, you heard what he said at the party – he's completely deluded. Someone needs to set him straight, and I want it to be me." It seemed that she had sat up too quickly, because the room had done that tippy thing again, and she felt her body sway along with it.

Lucius gently but firmly pushed her down so that her head was once again on her pillow. "Lie down like a good girl and stop worrying me."

She opened her mouth to say something she knew she'd regret later, and closed it when she saw the look on his face. _He really is worried, and here I am having a tantrum because I don't like not knowing what's going on. My poor Lucius._ Hermione reached out and stroked the back of his hand, which was still lying on her pillow.

Madam Pomfrey arrived, announcing that visiting hours were over. She handed Hermione another dose of Vitamix and watched her swallow it down before handing her another small vial. The young witch sniffed it cautiously. "Sleeping Draught?"

"Yes. I find it's the best way to keep obstinate witches where they're supposed to be. You'll drink it and then say goodnight to your wizards," ordered the matron crisply.

The Headmaster took his leave, as did Madam Pomfrey as soon as Hermione had emptied the vial. Lucius and Draco drew near on either side of her, and she reached out to hold their hands. _It's not as though I'm actually_ upset _with either of them._ _Silly snakes._ The potion was already meddling with her thought processes, making her feel tipsy. Hermione raised the two large hands to her face, kissing them both even as she yawned. "I'm sorry I was so awful."

Lucius leaned down to give her a sweet kiss. "My concern for you is perhaps excessive. It will take time for us to learn each other's ways, pet." His edges were blurring slightly as he sat up.

"I want to learn all your ways, Lucius, 'specially the wicked ones," she said drowsily. _My verbal filter went night-night._ Now he was almost completely blurry, except for his beautiful blue eyes. She turned her head to find Draco.

"Kiss me g'night, Draco, 'fore I start snoring, please." She assumed he was the hazy shape moving toward her, and was proved right when she felt his soft lips press against hers once, then twice. Her eyelids were suddenly very heavy, and she struggled to keep them open.

"Sweet dreams, witch."

Her breath was evening out. She smiled peacefully and mumbled drunkenly as sleep overtook her, "Mmmmmmm. 'Gonna to lick you all over."

Late that night, her drugged sleep passed into a more lucid state. Her body slept on, yet her brain whirred to life. It was as if her mind was a giant blackboard, and on it all the little things of the past week that hadn't seemed worth noticing suddenly added up to meaningful sums. It was the kind of Arithmancy that was so perfect it could only be achieved in a dream state such as this, and Hermione struggled to follow the columns of hints and meanings that were spelled out with such clarity. She was aware of another presence as she stood in front of the blackboard, but was so preoccupied with the puzzles before her that she barely acknowledged it.

Professor Dumbledore's words were looping through her mind. Like-mindedness. _Is that the case – that we're well matched? Will we learn each other's ways, as Lucius said? _ Something warm and encouraging within her was pleased with this thought, and she realized it was the presence. It seemed to whisper back softly, _'yes.'_

_That's the voice that kept saying 'not yet!' earlier this week. It's you, isn't it!_ It was less a form than a feeling, and it shimmered against the edges of her mind as she focused on it.

The components on the blackboard were still shifting about and being recalculated, but Hermione's curiosity had moved to seeking out this gentle presence. It was obvious to her that this was a manifestation of the Malfoy covenant within her.

_'Hello? Are you there?'_ The warmth increased,

The sensation of being embraced returned, and with it images of her wizards looking at her in love and desire. Hermione felt delight and a sense of rightness, and realized these emotions, although appropriate, weren't her own. _'Are these your own emotions? This is how you feel about me?'_ The warmth abated, and she tried again. _'This is how you feel when Lucius and Draco look at me that way?'_ She was assailed by a wave of happiness, and knew she'd guessed correctly.

A quick succession of images ran through her mind, and with each came a different emotion from the covenant. For Minerva there was tolerance. For Molly and Harry's girls, affection. Harry himself seemed to inspire admiration and amusement. For the Headmaster, there was respect, but also resentment. That one made her pause, seeking clarification. _'How can you resent the one who got me to accept you?'_ This kind of communication wasn't easy, but Hermione liked a good challenge. She ran through as many possible reasons for such a response, and finally felt a flicker. _He tricked me, and you don't like that. Well, I would have chosen you and your wizards in the end either way. I'm starting to think Dumbledore just set things on a faster track. Now let's stop beating around the bush and talk about Ron Weasley._

The covenant's obvious displeasure rattled about in her brain with a jarring sensation, and even in sleep Hermione felt awash in waves of vertigo. _That's exactly what you do every time I don't walk away from him! Why do you do this?_ _You need to stop!_ The covenant would not be calmed, and finally the young witch gave up and tried to ride out the storm of emotion passing through her. Eventually the presence quieted, and nudged her thoughts in what could only be interpreted as an apology.

_I'm not going to let him hurt your wizards, and I'm certainly not going to let him hurt me. Have you even met me? I can take care of myself! Please trust me – your way can only end badly._ The presence retreated until Hermione could no longer feel it. She eventually grew tired of waiting for it to return, and slipped into a sound sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Hello Friends! Wow - I was so sure you'd all be incensed over the slightly shorter chapter last night that I ran and hid! Then, when I finally crawled out of the bottom of the second floor linen cupboard I felt a bit silly because all your kind notes were waiting for me. Here are some of my own:**

**Mad-girl-in-the-blue-box: you are a cheeky minx, and I love it! Incidentally, I was probably crushing on the fourth Doctor when you were still a twinkle in your dad's eye. Yes, Tom Baker - bad teeth and all. I was going to marry him, just as soon as I finished up 4th grade. Then he went and regenerated!**

**Maria Sven: You think I'm capable of writing 'serious' stuff?! I feel all grown up! Thank you!**

**StarGirlPotter: Oops! That was a complete typo, because every time I see your pen-name pop up, I wonder if you were thinking about Spinelli (remember, I'm a librarian, so books-on-the-brain)!**

**Honoria Granger: I knew you'd come around to the dark side ;)**

**marianna79, AuggieDeeksNico, abd loves2readalways: love you, too!**

**Pieces of Truth: Updates are M-Th just before the American Midwest sits down to dinner.**

**Sachmet and RozaLove: my last two reviews for ch28! They came at lunchtime today, and made me jump up and do a happy dance. I got shushed, because - you know, ****_library_****.**

**Those of you watching anonymously at home: leave a note - I'd love to hear from you!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 29 - Sunday Morning

Hermione woke the next morning feeling refreshed. She lay in her cot quietly while the sun came up and thought about her dreams from the previous night. Were they in fact just dreams, or had she really communicated with the covenant? Tentatively she reached out in her mind to find it. The faintest of flickers in the corner of her mind confirmed her suspicions, and she sat up excitedly.

A movement beside her caused her to jump. It was Lucius. He sat beside the bed in an armchair that looked so suspiciously like the one in the Headmaster's office alcove, Hermione knew at once he'd Transfigured it himself. He looked as though he'd been there all night, judging by the stubble on his face and his less-than-put-together appearance. Her wizard had shed his robes and waistcoat at some point, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and untucked from his trousers. He sat casually in his chair, long-boned and aristocratic, and his long, pale hair was unbound, framing his handsome face. She drank in this different look greedily. _Yum._

Lucius was drinking tea, the fragrance of which wafted through the air to the young witch's nose. He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, and she scrambled out of bed and onto his lap, holding out her hands in supplication. He raised an elegant eyebrow but handed her the cup, which she promptly drained.

"Hmmmmm. Thank you." She set the empty teacup beside him and snuggled into her nook, reaching up to rub her fingers and then her lips over the fascinating scratch of his cheeks and throat. "What are you doing here, you silly wizard? You look as if you spent the night in this chair."

"Indeed, I did. More tea?" The moment she'd curled in his lap, Lucius had wrapped her in his arms and held her close. Now he leaned his cheek on the top of her head, and she felt his stubble prick against her scalp through her hair.

She closed her eyes in contentment, continuing to stroke his rough jaw. "No, thank you. I thought Madam Pomfrey told you to leave."

"That old dragon lost her flame years ago. She'll tuck her tail between her legs and run if I say 'boo'."

"You shouldn't make a habit of terrifying people."

"I've made a fortune with that skill, and if it helps me get my way, I don't see the problem." Conversation with him would never be dull - he was as clever and provocative in his speech as he was in his mannerisms.

"Lucius, why are you still here? You should have gone home and slept in your bed."

"I lost a witch once, in a cot much like this. I wouldn't have slept, had I left you," he said in a quiet but emotionless voice.

Hermione stroked his chest gently. "I only fainted."

"Let us talk about something entirely different. What on earth has happened to you, my prize? Your hair is awry, your makeup smeared, and you're wearing the most hideous pair of pajamas I have ever seen."

His abrupt attempt to change the conversation from the subject of Narcissa tugged at the young witch's heart, but she teased back, "You're not blind to all my shortcomings? I'm wounded, Lucius!"

He tightened his arms around her for a moment. Hermione felt his protection and love wash over her in a very physical sense. She ventured, "Someday will you tell me about . . ."

"Let us not dwell in the past. _Now_," he continued in a much different tone, "my lovely bespoken one is sitting on my lap, and I intend to spend my time wisely." Lucius' words and then his mouth interrupted her train of thought, which she promptly forgot. He tasted like tea, and she was so distracted by this that she almost missed the sensation of his hand slipping under her pajama shirt to rub against the bare skin of her back. It caused a shiver of pleasure to run through her. _ I think my entire body is one big erogenous zone with this man. _"What about our chaperone?"

"In her office with the door open. Now hush and let me kiss you." His lips touched hers lovingly at first, worshipping her mouth with the softest of presses and brushes. Eventually the kiss turned playful as he nipped at her full lips and sucked her bottom one into his mouth. His hand was splayed across her back under her pajama top, warm skin on warm skin, and Hermione gave a little moan of pure pleasure against her wizard's mouth. Lucius responded by deepening the kiss and pulling her against his chest. His hand moved up her back, caressing between her shoulder blades before slipping to her side. She felt her body respond almost instantaneously to his touch. Want and need stirred deep in her abdomen and pulsed outward until her entire body seemed to throb.

Lucius wasn't hesitant by any means. Hermione was sure it was because he felt her steady heartbeat, pressed as she was between his hand and chest. He was kissing her hungrily now, and his thumb moved down her side, sketching her ribs before pushing upward to rub against the lower curve of her breast, as he had over her shirt during the match yesterday. _Mmmmmm. _ _More._

Her own hands, which had been combing through his hair, slid to his chest, and she mapped out his shape much as she had done to Draco the day before. Lucius was broad, solid, and well-muscled. Hermione's fingers ran from his collarbones down his sternum and then over his pectorals, learning the masculine curves of his upper body. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt where it was unbuttoned and laid it against his warm skin_. More._ She scrabbled with the next button, wanting access to more of him and encouraged by the deep groan he gave into her mouth. That sound seemed to be connected to the apex of her legs, and she squirmed against his thigh as that now-familiar, pleasant, torturous coil wound yet tighter.

Suddenly, the heavy door to the infirmary at the far end of the room creaked its opening sound, and Lucius reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers. They both turned their heads to look in that direction. His thumb made one more slow, teasing sweep against her breast as the Headmaster, Aberforth, Draco, and Harry made their way through the door, and then he slid his hand down to her waist.

"Saved by the chaperone, my love. Why don't you go trouble Draco as you did me, so that I may collect myself?" His voice was rough, his eyes were wild, and his eyes burned wherever they touched her skin. She pressed one last kiss to his chin and slipped from her perch on his thigh.

Hermione and Draco tangled in each other's arms briefly while she greeted the others. When they disengaged, he looked her over with a tender smirk. _I'll bet I look positively frightful._ She blushed. "I'm just going to wash my face," she explained to the group over her shoulder as she fled to the infirmary washroom.

She'd completely forgotten her rumpled appearance while basking in Lucius' confidence. _How does he do that? He makes me feel as though I could conquer the world. I love that about him. _She felt a contented nudge from the covenant within. One look in the mirror confirmed her suspicions, but even more noteworthy were her distinctly kiss-swollen lips and the flush of her cheeks. The curly-headed witch scrubbed her face of all sleep and makeup. There was nothing to be done for the awful pajamas, but at least a toothbrush had been set out for her, and so in less than five minutes a somewhat presentable Hermione was heading back to the area near her cot.

Professor Dumbledore had Summoned chairs for those present. Hermione gratefully sank into the one between Lucius and Harry, ignoring both her wizards' annoyed looks at her choice of seating. _They're as bad as two toddlers who need cuddle toys. Besides, I might explode with frustration if they do anything to tease me right now._ She did, however, reach out to her older wizard and clasp his hand with hers.

It was Aberforth Dumbledore who began the meeting. "I understand there is an issue with the Malfoy covenant and your bride-to-be."

Draco answered, "In the past few days, each time she's near a certain wizard she's fainted and at times appeared drunk and disoriented."

"Who is this wizard, and what is his connection to Miss Granger?"

"Ronald Weasley. His brothers cast war stakes for her, but he did not."

Aberforth looked to his brother, who added, "I did not give the Weasley stake precedence because it was not unanimous. Mr. Weasley holds no claim to pursue this witch, other than what would seem to be his own stubborn ignorance."

"We believe her symptoms are inflicted by our covenant, and seek a solution that does not involve risk of her safety. It has never acted in such a way, according to the Malfoy histories."

Hermione was intently seeking out the presence within her. When she felt it flutter against her consciousness, she reached out to it gently. When she spoke, her face was set in concentration and her eyes were closed. "No, Lucius - that doesn't sound quite right. I don't think the covenant is purposely causing me to feel this way. It's not an 'infliction', so to speak. Wait a minute while I . . ." She trailed off in thought.

"How could you possibly know?" Aberforth's question was blunt, but his tone was curious.

The young witch replied, eyes still shut, "I've felt it several times over the past week. Each time I wanted to tell Ron about my betrothal, a little voice, or more like a feeling, told me to wait – that it wasn't time. I just assumed it was my subconscious. Last night, though, I'm sure I communicated with it."

"You spoke with it?" Aberforth asked.

"In a way. I thought of something and then felt an emotional response to it. For instance, the idea of Lucius and Draco caused positive feelings – love, warmth, a feeling of safety. I wondered at first if those were my own feelings, but somehow just knew they weren't.

"I tried again, wondering if the emotions belonged to the covenant, and I _knew_ that was it, because I immediately felt a happiness that wasn't exactly coming from _me_. Then I thought about confronting Ron Weasley, and the covenant panicked. In fact, whenever I think about what I'd like to do or say to him, that's what happens. It's not trying to give me direction – it's just _feeling_."

Aberforth looked to Lucius and Draco for corroboration. "Does this sound like your own interactions with the family covenant?"

"I have received guidance and, at times, a sense of precognition, but I have never tried communicating with it," Lucius replied as he looked speculatively at Hermione.

Draco agreed. "The same is true for me. I know without a doubt the covenant runs in my blood and works to further my success, but I have never felt it other than as Lucius described. I sense no feelings I could attribute to anyone other than myself."

"But it's _there_! I can feel it even now, and I'm certain that if I could just reason with it somehow, it would understand what it is I want to do."

"And what, exactly, is that?" asked the Headmaster.

"Well, what I'd _really_ like to do is hex his—" here she stopped herself short, blushing as she remembered her audience, "What I mean to say is, I'd like to tell him _exactly_ what I think of him. I'd like to be the one to rip off those blinders of utter stupidity he's been wearing for so long. I need the chance to be honest with him. We were friends for so long . . ." Hermione's voice grew quieter and quieter as she spoke until, at the end, she was barely audible.

"Absolutely not. You will stay away from him. The covenant has decreed it," growled Lucius. His hand had gradually tightened around hers while she spoke, and now his grasp was almost uncomfortable. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Draco, who had a conflicted look on his face.

"Aberforth, what do you have to offer?" his brother asked.

Aberforth Dumbledore smiled apologetically at Hermione. "I'm afraid I have nothing to add, except to note that Miss Granger seems to have a strong affinity for the magic of her new family. The three of you should discuss her desire to confront the wizard in question. If you can find a solution that is acceptable to all, perhaps the covenant will be more amenable. If you cannot, then the only thing is to avoid this wizard."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but that hardly seems like a solution," argued Hermione. "Surely your studies have given _some _you insight into this problem."

If my studies have taught me one thing, it is that the covenants. The Malfoy magic is obviously of advanced sentience, and therefore capable of having thought and opinion. There is a good chance that by reaching consensus within your family, the covenant can be swayed. Until then, do not underestimate its power. I will look over my journals and contact you if something comes to light." He shrugged, obviously no wiser in the end than they were. "Albus, I will see myself out."

Hermione tried to keep her face clear of annoyed frustration as she thanked the old wizard for his time and watched him leave. _Well, he was absolutely no help whatsoever. I want to talk to Ron! And (she focused her thoughts on the presence within her) don't even think about panicking right now!_ The Headmaster sat silently with his head down, as if he was in deep thought.

Harry, who had been quiet for the duration of the short meeting, spoke up. "What exactly upsets you about the idea of 'Mione confronting Ron?"

Lucius replied tensely, "She will stay away from him because I have said so."

Hermione felt a small flare of irritation towards her wizard. "_She_ is right here and can think for herself!"

"Lucius, I don't want Hermione to be near him any more than you, but I recognize that I don't have a valid reason. If we are to be united in this stand, please help me understand your argument," Draco countered earnestly.

The wizard still holding her hand looked murderously at the Headmaster. "Albus, you know my defense in this. Tell me it isn't justified."

Professor Dumbledore was still sitting with his head down. He looked up and said nothing, but his expression was one of sympathy for Lucius. Hermione was instantly curious. "What do you mean by that, Lucius?"

He dropped the hand he'd been holding and stood abruptly. "I must go. Until tonight." He took the hand she lifted in protest, raised it to his mouth, and kissed it with a distinct absence of emotion. Lucius paused only long enough to gather his waistcoat and robes, and then he was gone. The infirmary door banged shut behind him, silencing the sound of his retreating footsteps.

It was her first glimpse of her wizard's temper. _Draco did call him volatile. _The young witch turned her focus to the Headmaster. "Sir, what was all that about?"

"It is not my place to say, but I know Lucius well enough to be sure he will tell you in his own time." With those cryptic words, the professor excused himself from the meeting and left the room. He seemed to be in a hurry, and Hermione wondered if he was trying to catch up with Lucius.

She moved to the wingback chair, which was still warm and smelled faintly of her wizard. _I want Lucius_. "Draco?"

He looked as confused as she felt. "I have no idea what's going on, but the Headmaster is right – Lucius will tell us when he's ready. He's obviously upset, and needs time to sort something out."

Harry finally suggested finding something to keep them busy for the day. "You'll see him tonight, 'Mione. And I'm sure he'll want to talk with you as well, Draco. In the meantime, let's take another picnic to that spot by the lake. I'll get the girls to work on it while you get ready for the day." He ducked down to look Hermione in the eye, "By the time you go to sleep tonight, it'll all be fine. I'm sure of it."

Leaving the infirmary proved to be a lengthy process. Harry left for Gryffindor tower immediately in hopes of finding Ginny, who would be able to help getting clothes for Hermione. The curly-headed witch had adamantly refused to walk through the castle in either the hideous pajamas or the beautiful white dress, and begged for Harry's help. "It'll only start rumors if I'm seen going to my room the morning after a party in a dress like that, and these pajamas shouldn't be legal. Please help me?"

Harry kindly agreed. Draco went to alert Madam Pomfrey that Harry was leaving, and the matron came out at once to give them the hairy eyeball. "There will be _no_ funny business while I'm responsible for the two of you. Mr. Potter, you will not dally on your errand. Mr. Malfoy, you will not even_sit_ on Miss Granger's cot. Any seating will be on chairs only. Oh, and," she added with narrowed eyes, "four feet on the floor at all times."

The silver lining of this somewhat humiliating speech was that it temporarily cleared the air of previous troubles. Harry left with a good-natured roll of his eyes, Draco tried not to smirk, and Hermione blushingly dragged her wizard back to the relatively private far corner of the infirmary to talk.

It was Madam Pomfrey's small Potions storeroom, but it had no door and so technically it was part of the infirmary. It was also the perfect space in which to steal a few moments together without being in breach of their rules.

Her desire to talk was tempered with curiosity as she watched Draco look speculatively around the tiny area, and then at her with a similar look in his eye. "What is it?"

"Have you ever noticed," he began as he wrapped his hands around her middle and lifted her off her feet, "How much shorter you are than I am? It's nice to stand straight and look you in the eye every once in a while."

The matron's last barked order went out the window as he swung Hermione up onto the counter and gently pushed her legs apart to stand between them. It was waist-high for her wizard, and she curled her legs around his hips to pull him closer. _I can't seem to get close enough to him, no matter how I try._ Despite her perch, he was still taller than she was, and when she raised her eyes to his level, she found him looking back intently.

"Could you please not stare at me? I'm self-conscious enough in these hateful pajamas as it is, and the rat's nest on top of my head is only making it worse."

Draco leaned to put his head on her shoulder, speaking into the sensitive skin of her neck. "You look adorable. You're all soft skin and bed-head, and you smell so good. I just want to be close to you right now."

"It must be from the bubble bath I took before the party – I used scented oil in it." She rubbed her bare feet against the soft wool of his trousers and ran her fingers through his pale hair. _All this sensory input, and we haven't even kissed._

Draco groaned in her ear. "You, in a tub of bubbles. I'm going to think about that later."

"You know what else you can think about later? I'm going to sleep in your jersey tonight. It's already tucked under my pillow, waiting for me," she whispered, her devious smile hidden in his hair.

"Hermione, I promise you this is _not_ what I had in mind when we came back here," her wizard groaned. She waited for him to pull away, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't. Draco trailed his lips along her jaw, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck to the collar of the pajamas. He tugged at the top button. "I know you don't like these, and if it's any consolation, I'd gladly remove them."

Her mind was fogging over with desire as she used both her arms and legs to try and pull him flush against her. Draco's mouth found hers just as his hands grabbed hold of her backside, and a moment later she gasped as that increasingly familiar bulge in his pants rubbed against her core in the most pleasurable of ways. Once, twice he rocked slowly against her and pushed his tongue inside her mouth in the same rhythm. _I'm going to die of delayed gratification_. Hermione whimpered into his mouth just as she heard the sound of Madam Pomfrey's shoes come click-clackingtoward them.

Draco must have heard it, too, because he pulled away from her quickly with a tortured sound of frustration and pulled her off the counter. When the matron came round the corner, they were standing close together holding hands and Draco had his back to her.

"You two are much too far from my office. I can't supervise what I can't see. Come on, back you go." Luckily Madam Pomfrey seemed distracted. She didn't even look at them, but turned on her heel and directed them to follow her. Otherwise she would have had quite the show: Hermione's eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed, and she was panting lightly. Draco was in a worse state – there was a family-sized tent pitched in his trousers.

The Healer stopped beside Hermione's cot, pointing at two chairs. "You may sit here, side by side in separate chairs."

"The Headmaster doesn't have that rule, Madam Pomfrey," protested Draco in a rough-voiced, less than courteous tone.

"That old fart probably isn't aware of what mischief can be made in one chair by two members of the opposite sex. Besides, he left me in charge for now, and so you will follow my rules. Separate chairs."

They looked at each other in disbelief. Draco collapsed in the wingback chair, and Hermione flopped onto her cot. Her body was throbbing with need, and her mood was quickly turning sour. Her wizard looked positively ill and was unusually uncollected in his speech patterns. "Hermione, I'm so sorry—I mean, I shouldn't have – what I mean to say is—"

She had no sympathy whatsoever for him and interrupted crossly, "Oh, it's alright for _you_ – _you_ can go off and take care of things later, can't you! But _me_ – I can't do any such thing! I am going to _die_ long before Friday . . ."

She trailed off in a whimper, draping a hand over her eyes dejectedly. There was a rustling sound, and then Draco was holding her other hand. She looked to see him kneeling by her cot and looking at her with heated eyes. "I don't think you understand that rule. You don't have to w—"

The infirmary door burst open just then to admit Harry and Ginny.


	30. Chapter 30

**Did everyone else panic last night when this site was down? I returned from my daughter's play (see below) and couldn't upload! The site crash continued on and past my bedtime, so here I am now at butt o'clock to give you your Thursday treat! This morning, I see that I have a full inbox - I'll get to them next.**

**Happy Thursday, Everyone! Did you think I'd been whisked away in the Tardis or caught in a rift of the space-time continuum? Nope - but I had mom-stuff to do (my middle school daughter's spring play). Anyway, I was thinking about you all because there's just nothing riveting about middle school theatre!**

**To the 29 of you who experienced cliffhanger-induced trauma, I'm offering a triage package of a bandaid, an icepack, and a smirk. To the other 40 or so who tried to hold it together, I'm developing a Girl Scout-like badge focusing on surviving cliffhanger endings in romance novels. When it's in production, I'll make sure you each get one.**

**Iridescence: welcome to the dark side - we have Lucius! And sometimes Draco, too.**

**Brightki, you know I love you darling, but Lucius is resting until Tuesday night. **_**'Tuesday Night?!**_**', you're no doubt screeching. Yes, Tuesday night. Remember? I'm trying to keep the story (giggles here) **_**realistic**_**.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the Please Girls, who are unfailingly polite in their sweet demands: Gracie Laufey (head cheerleader of the PGs), Jnk4621, Mc111, bownbey, Sev Snape's Girl, snowangl05, and medward (who is now third in line for dibs on Lucius after me and Brightki)**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 30 - Sunday Afternoon

Hermione felt slightly better after a long hot shower and something to eat. She had poured out every word and experience of the past twelve or so hours to Ginny, whose facial expressions had ranged from rapt, to sympathetic, to eye-rolling understanding. This last was in response to the description of Draco's abrupt change in mood in the Potions storeroom.

"What I don't understand is how he can go from a serious conversation to being completely turned on in less than five minutes. Not that I'm complaining," she finished to her friend.

Ginny nodded her head knowingly. "Believe me, I do know what you mean. Not that I'm complaining, either. Charlie says it'll probably always be that way, but that self-control improves with age."

The curly-headed witch wrinkled her nose in a quizzical way. "You really talk to Charlie about your sex life?"

"Oh, yes – well, you know Charlie; he's completely uninhibited. I don't think anything could take him by surprise, and that makes him easy to talk to. But then, you've talked to Harry before, haven't you?"

Hermione laughed softly and recounted her first attempt to ask Harry about something sexual in nature. As she described the Fat Lady's contribution to the conversation, Ginny exploded into giggles. "_Sweet Circe_, Hermione! How can you even look at any of the portraits in the castle? She's such a gossip!"

"I keep trying to tell myself that they need entertainment, too. And it can't be the most embarrassing thing they've ever heard. Surely you three have put on at least one show for them."

"Hmmmmm. You're probably right." The redhead looked as if the thought hadn't occurred to her before. She glanced at the timepiece on Hermione's bedside table. "We should get going."

"Ginny? Would you mind . . . I mean I don't know if I want to be _alone-_ alone with Draco this afternoon . . ."

Her friend looked at her speculatively. "Well, I know you're not playing hard to get, so it must be a case of mild panic. Let me guess, you liked what you were doing earlier, but you're not ready to find out what happens next?"

Hermione blushed and looked down at her hands. She realized she was wringing them nervously. "Something like that. Maybe I want to slow down a little."

"No problem. I'll attach myself to your side with a Sticking Charm if needed. But honestly, you have nothing to worry about; Draco adores you, and he'd never do anything that made you uncomfortable."

"I know, but I just feel self-conscious all of a sudden, like I've been heading towards a certain destination all along without really thinking about it. Now there's a metaphorical blinking sign over my head that says _Going to Have Sex Soon_ in flashing letters."

"If it makes you feel any better, Draco has the same sign over his head. And I think his is bigger and flashier."

The reminder that her younger wizard was in the same position as her was comforting, as was the fact that he cared for her very much. _I think it's safe to say I'm in love with Draco Malfoy._

They met Harry in the commons a little later, and the three made their way toward the entrance hall where Draco and Luna were waiting for them, arms laden with baskets and blankets. Conversation on the way to the picnic spot was dominated by a good-natured argument between Harry and Ginny. Luna, who skipped ahead of the rest, sang out a lively protective chant against odderknocks, which were apparently in season.

Hermione walked beside Draco holding his hand. Her own mind was whirring away about all sorts of things, like Lucius' stubborn refusal to see her point of view regarding Ron. She wondered what their visit tonight would be like now, and hoped he would answer her myriad questions. She also thought about those few heated minutes in the infirmary Potions storeroom with Draco, and what more might have happened if the matron hadn't interrupted. He, too, seemed lost in thought.

Their contemplative moods slowly shifted as they neared their destination. The weather was unusually warm, the lake sparkled in the sun, and it was hard not to laugh at Luna's antics. Outer robes were shed and heaped in a pile by an outcropping of rock. Blankets were spread out, food was portioned onto plates, and Hermione had the pleasure once again of seeing her wizard eat copious amounts of food with his beautiful hands. By the end of the meal, any nerves she'd felt earlier had disappeared and she was snuggled against his side, feeding him bites of chocolate cookie.

"Hey! Stop that!" She giggled as Draco once again caught her fingers instead of the cookie between his teeth.

His eyes crinkled in amusement and he quickly swallowed down his mouthful. "More, please."

"Oh, no – I'm lucky to have all my fingers still as it is! You can feed yourself, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco broke apart another cookie and offered her half before flopping back contentedly.

Hermione turned to face away from him and then lay back so that her head rested against his chest. She watched Harry and the girls pack up the remains of lunch and closed her eyes. The rise and fall of her wizard's torso eventually lulled her into such a drowsy state that she turned on her side and fell into a light sleep.

She awoke a while later to find that she'd curled up into Draco's side, her arm thrown over his chest. His arm had curved up and around her, holding her in place, and he was running the fingers of his other hand through her hair. Hermione could hear her friends talking amongst themselves a few feet away.

"Did I really fall asleep?"

Draco treated her to one of his soft, husky laughs. "Yes, and you've drooled all over my shirt."

"I did not!" Hermione rolled to her stomach and looked down where her mouth had been. There _was_ a small wet spot, and she looked up with a guilty smirk. "Oops."

"It's quite alright. I've been drooled over by girls many times, although never in an actual physical sense."

She laid her cheek on top of her hand where it rested on his chest. This way she could look at him but stay cuddled close. "So you could say I'm your first."

Draco was looking skyward with a soft smile on his face. "Miss Granger, you are without doubt my first everything."

The young witch couldn't have asked for a more perfect set of circumstances. She had the safety net of her friends nearby, giving her and her wizard the illusion of privacy without actually providing any. They could talk freely, and continue to enjoy each other's close proximity, and that was about all. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Hmmm. I'm getting married on Friday."

"I'm being serious, Draco!"

He chuckled. "Very well. Hmmmm . . . I'm named after a constellation."

"Oh, I know: Thuban is part of it, isn't it? The ancient Egyptians' pole star?"

Draco lifted his head to look at her with a sneer that was somehow filled with fondness. "Only you would know that. Your turn."

"I like learning, and I keep track of what I know. Now you go."

He tickled her ribs until she squirmed, arguing, "You can't use that as both a response to my remark _and _answer to my question. Tell me something I _don't_ know about you."

It was hard to concentrate when his fingers still dug gently into her ticklish spots, but she finally managed, between giggles. "I used to have a familiar, a half-kneazle named Crookshanks."

Draco stopped his torturous efforts against her sides. He sat up, sliding her head down to rest against his thigh. "Used to?"

"He disappeared after the battle here at school. I miss him." Without meaning to, Hermione had steered them toward conversation of a more serious sort.

"So you're a cat person?"

"I suppose, although I'm in no hurry to replace Crooks."

Draco ran his hand through her hair, causing her to shiver. "I'm sorry to say that we have dogs at the Manor. I suppose now you'll finally go running and screaming?"

Hermione sat up quickly, pleased with the idea. "What kind of dogs?"

He shrugged. "Big woolly hounds, I don't know. They've been bred on our French estate for as long as anyone remembers. Lucius likes to keep some at the main house for company."

Her was filled with tender concern for Lucius immediately. "For company – does he live all alone?"

"During the school year, yes – with the exception of the house elves. He travels so much for our businesses, though, that I don't really think he's been home all that much since I first left for school."

"Draco, will you tell me what you know of your mother?" Hermione felt shy all of a sudden and angled her body slightly away from her wizard so he couldn't see her face. He pulled her back against his shoulder and kept his arm wrapped around her.

"Lucius doesn't speak of her, and I'm certain it has nothing to do with lost love and the agony of remembrance. Over the years I've gathered she wasn't a very nice woman."

"But she was bespoke." In Hermione's mind, the word was synonymous with love and compatibility.

Now Draco wrapped both arms around her and leaned his chin on her shoulder. "I once asked why he wouldn't talk about her, and he simply said that he would have waited for another witch, but that Abraxas had claimed right of choice. Another time he said he believed that the only thing that qualified her as their bespoken one was our covenant's foreknowledge of my birth. I don't think they were ever in love."

"What about Abraxas?"

"He wasn't very nice, either, from what little I've heard. I get the idea that Lucius did whatever he ordered, and not out of love." Draco kissed her neck softly. "Let's talk about something one of us _does_ know about. What were your parents like?

"They were wonderful. They worked hard and always had time for me. My father loved to read, and my mother sang and danced while she cooked and cleaned. They were so excited when I got my acceptance letter, and relieved, I think, to find out I wasn't a freak after all. My magic manifested rather early, and they had no way of understanding what was going on."

"You must miss them very much."

Hermione leaned into Draco's tender touches. "Yes, but now I know that I would have drifted from them eventually. The two worlds are just so different. And how would I have explained pureblood marriage traditions to them! I can't even imagine the shocked horror on my father's face, had I gone to him with the news that I was taking two husbands."

She couldn't help but laugh at that thought, and Draco joined in. Emboldened by their exchange of information, she shifted to turn into his arms. She said quietly in his ear. "I like spending time with you like this. I mean, I like the things we do when we're alone, too, but this is nice."

Her wizard drew her close in a sweet embrace and sighed. "I apologize for constantly testing your limits, Hermione. It's just . . . I've waited and hoped for this so long that I forget you're still getting used to the idea. Please help me know when to stop," he begged quietly against her temple.

She pushed away to look up at him in surprise. "Oh, Draco – no! That's not what I meant at all. I . . . I want to be with you like that. The way that you," here she dropped her eyes and blushed deeply, but pressed on, "the way that you touch me drives me crazy, and I can't stop thinking about it when we're apart. Well, actually I can't stop thinking about it at all."

Draco shifted uncomfortably and sat back to put some distance between them. It was obvious he was trying not to be affected by the conversation, and Hermione found his efforts endearing. She also found that her own body was rapidly responding to her short speech. _Mother of magic, I just turned myself on. Now I want to jump his gorgeous bones_. She leaned in to press a short, passionate kiss to his mouth and said, "And about what happened earlier, I'm sorry we were interrupted, and that I was cross with you. Will you forgive me?"

Draco groaned softly and leaned his forehead against hers. His voice was barely a strangled whisper against her lips. "There's nothing to forgive, but that reminds me – I never got to explain. Your rules aren't meant to make you miserable; they're supposed to bring us closer together. You can't bring yourself to climax, sweet witch, but we can. If that's what you want, you only need to say the word. It's part of our binding vows. If you remember, your pleasure shall be mine. I want to give you pleasure, Hermione."

It was perhaps the most incendiary thing Hermione had ever heard, and her body was swept with a burn of want and need so hot that she felt as if she were aflame. Even as she leaned toward her wizard's mouth, though, she heard Ginny call her name, and she was filled with the agonizing knowledge that she had sealed her own frustrated fate. _Nooooo! I had to ask her to stay with us for the afternoon, and now I won't be able to get rid of her! _The curly-headed witch felt as though she could cry, but Ginny would not be ignored.

"'Mione! Did you hear me? Let's all take a walk along the lake. Come on, before I drag you the whole way!"

If Ginny was aware of Hermione's change of heart, she didn't let on. She did, however, tactfully ignore the evil looks her friend shot at her and the state of the blond wizard following in her wake. The rest of the afternoon was spent in an endless exchange of heated looks and the torment of unfulfilled desire.


	31. Chapter 31

**Happy Monday, Everybody! Here we are, chapter 31, and still on Sunday. Some of you are chomping at the bit, and others are relieved that the story will continue for some time. Guess what - I'm going to throw you all a bone and let you know that this is the last evil cliffhanger, at least for a few days! The plan is never actually to torture you, but to end chapters as the muse dictates (or as my son with autism once wrote in an English paper 'as the muse duct tapes'. His teacher marked it incorrect, and my son argued that as a metaphor it was more accurate than the original, because being led to do something by an abstract mystical entity sounded a lot like being strapped down and forced to do something awful - like eat rice, or peas. The teacher ended up agreeing with him. It's become a household idiom around here).**

**Thanks for the kind words and encouraging reviews chupeechan, badgrrldiy, lunarcat12, paintmeolivia, and Irmorena!**

**christine holzman 1, I can't respond to your reviews bcs you've got that function turned off :(. Just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you :D.**

**Drop by later and leave a note. All the cool kids are doing it.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 31 - Sunday Afternoon

The afternoon passed in a series of group activities interspersed with somewhat private moments. These transitions were enough to keep Hermione and Draco fluctuating between relaxed conversation and almost comic sexual tension. The walk had been a benevolent idea as far as Ginny's nefarious scheme went. It allowed them to hold hands, talk quietly, but not much else.

They trailed behind the others along the lakeside path. Draco had draped his arm over Hermione's shoulder, and she leaned against his side. The curly-headed witch had noticed that, since Friday night's visit, her wizard had worked assiduously to keep his hands (and hers) out of troublesome places. She found that she was disappointed in this development but unsurprised – Draco was a wizard with principles.

Something about that train of thought triggered a question. "Draco, are my feelings for you all my own, or are they being manipulated by the family magic? They feel so genuine, but I never would have thought I'd fall—I mean, I never would have thought I'd have such strong emotions for anyone so quickly."

"There's no magic involved – just us."

"That's nice to know. When, ummm, when did you _know_? Lucius told me he recognized me years ago, when I was twelve. But what about you?"

"He told me that day in Diagon Alley what you were - he said something like, 'she's bespoke...' But he didn't finish the thought. And the covenant within me was aware of you constantly when we got to school, but I didn't realize what that meant to me until fourth year."

"Was there someone else?" _Why does that thought bother me so?_

"What? No, you misunderstand, Hermione. You were the first witch I ever saw as a _woman_. On the train platform that year, after summer holiday, it was as though I was seeing you for the first time. You were _The One. _I began noticing everything about you, thinking about you, _dreaming_ about you . . . "

She gave his side a tender squeeze and thought how childish her crush on Ron seemed in comparison to Draco's described feelings. He went on, "And those thoughts and dreams – they kept me going when things were at their worst."

"You mean your spying during the war?" Thinking of her wizards and what they must have gone through during those dark years sent a surge of protectiveness through her being. _I will never let them suffer again_.

"Actually, I meant having to watch you get chased by that Bulgarian thug, and wondering what you were doing with him." She would have smiled, but her wizard was in earnest.

"Oh, Draco! I can't believe I never noticed you. Then again, I didn't notice boys much at all until very recently. You know, I didn't," here she looked up at her wizard shyly, "I didn't do anything with Viktor. He tried to kiss me the night of the Yule Ball, but it didn't feel right, and I told him I wasn't ready for those kinds of things. I really did give you my first kiss."

"What about the Weasel? You two were close, and you had feelings for him for quite a long time. Perhaps you didn't kiss him, but . . . "

She could tell by Draco's tone and tense body that he was trying to hide his animosity toward the two wizards, and she smiled to herself. _I think I like jealous Draco_. "That's true, although what those exact feelings were I have no idea now. I never even _thought_ about doing the kinds of things with him that you and I have done. We did hold hands a few times," she added with a laugh, "but his were sweaty."

Draco paused, causing her to stop as well. The others were ahead by quite a ways, giving an illusion of privacy to the moment. He turned to her and wrapped his long, strong arms around her tightly, leaning to speak into her ear. "And what about these two wizards to whom you're bound?"

She wriggled her arms out from his strong hold to curl them around his neck, combing her fingers through his soft hair. "They don't have sweaty hands."

He chuckled against her neck, where he was plying her skin with soft, wet kisses. "Not what I meant, little witch."

"I know exactly what you meant, and if you think that I'm going to hand-feed your ego you're mistaken. For one thing, you bite. And for—ooooh, don't stop what you're doing."

Of course, Ginny picked that moment to double back and interrupt. Hermione found herself dragged out of Draco's arms and held hostage for some time between the girls. Harry gave her an apologetic smile and fell behind with her wizard.

"You are _diabolically_ _evil_, Ginevra Weasley. That's twice now that you've interrupted us!"

" 'Mione," the redhead responded in feigned innocence, "I only did what you asked me!"

"Yes, when I was confused _beforehand_! And you _know _I've changed my mind since then, don't you!"

Ginny grinned. "Fred and George did this to me and Harry at the Burrow the first time we visited as an official couple. Now I can see why – it's awfully fun. Besides," here she gave a pitiful mock-pout, "I never see you any more. Is it wrong to want to spend time with my friend?"

"Oh, you!" Even though it was meant in jest, Hermione saw the truth in it. She thought about how much differently her mealtimes and evenings were spent now, and how helpful her friends had been recently. "I know I've been saying this repeatedly, but thank you for all you've done for me since all . . . _this._"

"We'd do anything for you, Hermione," chirped Luna sweetly. She'd been flitting back and forth between the conversation and looking for her blessed odderknocks. She added, "And you really shouldn't let Ginny's fun interfere with what you and Draco want to do. Just remember that we won't mind you performing intimate acts in front of us."

"Errrr, the thing is, Lu, that the reason they're called _intimate_ acts is that most people prefer to- you know what, never mind." She devoted her efforts to hunting imaginary creatures with her gentle friend, all the while wondering how soon might be considered appropriate to run back to her fiancé.

She was saved from this dilemma when the two wizards caught up with them. Draco looked at her with obvious longing, but held himself back. _He's trying to be sensitive to what I want_, she reminded herself. _He's wanted to be near me for years, and now all of a sudden he knows I want to be near him, too. It must be driving him crazy._ Hermione made her way to his side and drew his arm around her. "I missed you terribly. Please don't let her drag me away again."

His grip on her side tightened, and he slowed their pace so that they once again fell behind the others. "Tell me something else I don't know about you."

_I want you. _"I have a newfound appreciation for Quidditch, especially the uniforms." She reached around his back to tickle his far side and yelped when he returned the gesture.

"The uniforms?"

"Well, I think you know how much I like the jerseys, but the trousers are very nice, too." She leaned her head against the side of his chest, craning her head to watch his reactions. Walking like this with him, feeling his muscles move under her touch, was enough sensory input to send desire once again flooding through her system.

He looked down at her in puzzlement. "You're not going to want to borrow my trousers, too, are you? You'd swim in them."

"Oh, no – I much prefer them on you," she replied impishly.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You like the way I look in my uniform trousers. That's good to know, Miss Granger."

"Your turn."

"I have a newfound appreciation for witches' fashions, particularly on you. The dress you wore last night was . . . unbelievable." His hand squeezed her hip reflexively, and like that Hermione's knickers were soaked.

She countered in a breathless sort of voice. "Unbelievably short and revealing!"

He leaned to murmur quietly, "I carried you from Ravenclaw tower to the infirmary. Believe me when I say I know how short and revealing that dress is. I can't wait for you to wear it again."

As he spoke in her ear, his hand trailed a path from her hip, up her side, and over the curve of her breast. He pulled away from her with a sigh. "Lucius tells me conversation is the easiest way to avoid breaking these blasted rules. Clearly he's never tried talking with you."

Her curiosity flared up at the mention of Draco's own set of rules. "Tell me another of your rules. Please?" She looked up at him expectantly.

Draco looked very uncomfortable, and after a long while finally said, "I am never to put you in a compromising position."

"Such as on the counter in the Potions storeroom?" She asked mischievously, trying not to smile.

He blushed. "Such as that."

"Can you tell me why? I mean, we're getting married in a week – surely people expect us to . . . " She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

Draco chuckled. "You're the future wife to the house of Malfoy, and as such should be afforded every sign of respect and courtesy. At least, that's the official explanation for this rule. If you want the truth of it, I think Lucius doesn't want anyone else to get an inappropriate glimpse of you. Neither do I, for that matter. And we certainly don't want anything scandalous to be printed about you."

_"Hussy Hermione Hurries Husbands-to-Be into Hanky Panky?"_ She asked, with a smirk.

"More like the opposite: _Frenzied Fiancé Finger F_— _errrr,_ my sincerest apologies, Hermione." Draco's pale face hadn't flamed such a deep red in several days, and he winced at his impulsive gaffe.

She blushed, but smiled and said, "The fact that I knew where you were going with that proves I'm not as naïve as you think."

"Still, I don't think either of us is ready to talk to each other that way."

"No," she agreed self-consciously. "Not yet. Back to your rules - both times I've asked you about your rules, you've been embarrassed to tell me, but in the end, neither is particularly embarrassing."

Draco blushed again, but he smirked as well. "I think it's more how Lucius worded them that makes me flustered around you. Once I figure out a way to say it in a less . . . _ribald_ . . . way, it's not so bad."

"Ribald?" Her mind had got stuck on that word, and she was surprised at her body's immediate reaction to the idea of Lucius using salacious language in reference to her. _I think I want him to say naughty things to me._

"As I've said, our relationship is more fraternal than anything else. We speak to each other as brothers do." By the intent look he was giving her, he was obviously trying to convey meaning beyond his word. Suddenly Lucius' words from the morning before came back to her. _We speak by Floo each night_. She felt both shocked and aroused. _Sweet Circe, I think they talk dirty about me._

Their forward progress had long since ceased, and Hermione was aware of a large outcropping of stone near where they stood on the footpath. As best she could, she herded him behind the natural wall and dragged him down to her level for a searing kiss.

Draco eagerly kissed her back and let his hands wander over her body, finally settling one to span her arse with a firm grip. He leaned back against the rock and bent at the knees, bringing himself closer to her height. His free hand gripped her waist for a moment, ran over her stomach, and then slid upwards to palm her breast. _Yes, please. _Not wanting to be so many inches apart from him, Hermione moved her feet apart slightly to get around his long legs. That's all the encouragement he needed to pull her flush against him, and for one brief second she was sure he was going to move against her aching, throbbing center as he had earlier that morning. His hand tightened around the lush, soft skin of her breast, fingers brushing against her nipple, and the sensation caused her to gasp his name against his lips. The young witch clung to her wizard's shoulders and kissed him hungrily as he held her motionless against his body. He pulled his lips away from hers just enough to say, "I want you, Hermione."

As if his own words had cut through the fog in his mind, he seemed to become aware of their position. Draco shook his head as if to clear it. He took a deep breath, kissed her once more, and then stood to his full height. Hermione whined and drew his mouth back down to hers. Draco's eyes were dark and glazed as she responded with a throaty, "I want you, too," and he kissed her back with equal fervor. However, he kept his hands on her hips, and those hands kept her away from him. It was obvious that this was one compromising situation he was determined they escape.

"Let's go somewhere less tempting," he said in a rough voice as he pulled her out from their hiding spot. They caught up with the others more quickly than Hermione would have liked, and not long after the group turned to head back to the picnic spot.

Draco successfully repelled the rest of Ginny's attempts to steal Hermione away, although he kept them in the company of the others for the rest of the afternoon. When they were finally packing up to head back to the castle, Draco said in an undertone of careful consideration, "Of course, the Headmaster's office is a place free of scandal. Nearly anything can happen there, if two people are in agreement."

He was carefully folding a blanket as he spoke, and at first she thought she might have imagined his words until he met her eyes with a heated look. Then he turned back to his task as if he hadn't just simultaneously written her a blank check for compromising scenarios and been the cause of her now-soaked knickers.

They were back at the castle by four o'clock. At the base of Gryffindor tower, Hermione pulled her wizard to the back of the staircase and soundly kissed him goodbye. He drew away from her lips enough to say with twinkling eyes and an almost-smile, "Why, Miss Granger - I had no idea you felt this way about me."

"Be quiet and kiss me, Mr. Malfoy," she ordered, trying to keep a straight face.

He gave her a teasingly quick peck on the lips and tugged on one of her loose curls. "Pushy little witch, aren't you?"

Hermione laughed softly just as he stole another, longer kiss. Draco took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth and swallowed her happy sound. When her lips were swollen and her breath irregular, he straightened to look down at her. "Sit with me at breakfast in the morning? At my table?"

"If you'll lunch with the Gryffindors, then yes, I will." The act of sitting down for a meal at another house table would have been unthinkable even a few days ago, but now it was simply an opportunity to be close to Draco.

"If I know Lucius, there'll be an evening visit of some sort, so we won't have to fight over that meal."

"Goodnight, Draco. Think of me later, sleeping in just your jersey."

He smirked at her then, full of that confident arrogance that had been peeking out off and on since the Quidditch match, and she may have swooned a bit. "Oh, I plan to do just that. And Hermione - make sure it's _just_ my jersey you're wearing tonight."

As he added that last part, his hands trailed over her backside, and she blushed in comprehension. _Draco just said he wants me to take my knickers off for him. _Hermione swallowed thickly, nodded slowly, and firmly denied herself the impulse to jump up into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. She may have, however, turned the tables on her wizard a bit by reaching out and running her forefinger along the front waistband of his trousers in a torturously slow motion. The fact that his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open assured her that this was the case.

After that he walked her back to the foot of the stairs, bowed low over her left hand, and pressed a lingering kiss to her handmark. Harry and Luna were waiting halfway up the staircase, but Ginny had waited at the bottom step and as soon as Draco was out of earshot she gave a blissful sigh. "Watching you two really is better than reading one of my mum's romance novels."

"I'm not sure if romantic is the right word. He just told me I'm to be knickers-free under his jersey tonight."

"Maybe you should send him a pair as proof." Ginny's eyes gleamed wickedly. "We have time, you know."

Hermione flushed and bit her lip against a nervous smile. "If you think he'd like that."

Her friend looked offended for a moment, responding, "If I _think_? I thought we'd already established that, not only do I know what I'm doing, I'm also diabolically evil!"

The redhead began loudly bossing the three others around immediately as only a female Weasley could. "Luna, you're going to have to keep Harry company until later. And Harry, don't you dare go anywhere near your clean sheets until you take a shower - you need scrubbing after what we did this morning! And _you_," here she looked at Hermione, "are going to come with me. We have a _lot to get done_."

**As the muse duct tapes . . . See you tomorrow night!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hi Peeps! This chapter has been waiting for you for some time, and I didn't forget - but I did have to go appliance shopping tonight. Ugh. So, here I am, and here you are! Let's have at it!**

**Dear Ginny Fan Club (Alesia G, green eyed champion, Yomi Love Akasuna, Irmorena, lunarcat12, StarGirlPotter, and RozaLove): I love her, too. She's exactly the best friend every girl needs ;).**

**illgirl91: what?! you're reading this during CLASS?! You had better give your full attention to either me or the teacher, young lady! )**

**kelbelz: you're right. I need to fit in some slightly inebriated Minerva and unfiltered Molly at least once more. Note to self . . .**

**jackiee234, PonderingsandWonderings, SailEachShilt, Mc111, 11-V-I: Hello!**

**christinesmess: love your new pen name! **

**chinaij: I'm incredibly impressed to know someone who can read and walk on a treadmill at the same time. Walking in a straight line while talking is a daily battle for me.**

**Thank you so very much once again for all the love and constructive criticism! Leave a note or send a PM - it's really enjoyable to chat with you all. **

**Brightki - this chapter is for you!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 32 - Sunday Evening

The two girls spent the late afternoon and early evening in a way similar to what they'd done the day before, with the exception that Hermione was more conversational. They soaked in bubbles, rubbed scented oil into their skin, and all the while the curly-headed witch talked with her friend about Lucius and Draco, their apparent efforts to slowly kill her with sexual frustration, and the courtship rules that governed their current behavior. Either her haze of desire was contagious or her descriptions of her most recent experiences were especially vivid, because Ginny listened with flushed cheeks and uneven breath.

She was also unusually tongue-tied. "_Circe on a _. . .'Mione! You're saying . . . Draco said . . . I mean, I knew you'd eventually get to . . . whew!" Ginny fanned herself rapidly with her hand. "Far, far better than a romance novel!"

"We're getting married in six days, Ginny – it's a fairly natural progression! I just wish we'd progressed a little bit farther today. I feel like I'm going to die if someone doesn't relieve all this tension inside me!" She moaned miserably in self-pity. "And why do you find this so exciting? It's not like you haven't done all this and more with Harry."

"Yes, but _your_ wizards are clearly _talkers_. That's a _very good _thing. Harry's excellent at what he does, but he's strictly a man of action. There's something unbelievably hot about being told what's going to happen. No wonder you're such a mess all the time now!" She added, "I predict Lucius is going to be a very happy wizard tonight."

Hermione wondered if that would be true, given the state her wizard had been in when he'd left earlier, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Ginny began rummaging through her drawer of underthings. "Now for Draco's naughty knickers . . . Hey, where'd you get these?"

She was holding up a handful of brightly colored knickers in varying Muggle styles. Ginny rifled through the small pile and looked up at Hermione questioningly.

"Oh, my mum gave them to me as a sort of joke present two birthdays ago." Hermione smiled and blushed at the memory. "She said a young woman needed decent knickers . . ."

"Did she know how you felt about Ron at the time?"

"Oh, I think she knew I was daydreaming about someone, but I never actually told her who it was. Now I'm glad – makes it easier to pretend it never happened. And as far as these go, " here she gestured to the underthings Ginny had laid out on her bed, "I'd almost forgot I had them . . . never had a reason to wear them."

"Well, I can think of two off the top of my head. Now pick out a pair to send to Draco, and then another to wear tonight. No, not those – let's see . . . these. Just," here she cut off any argument from Hermione, "_trust me_."

Hermione penned a quick note to Draco, and used it to wrap a tiny pair of bright blue knickers. It simply said, '_what I won't be wearing tonight.'_ Ginny promised to send the package off later.

The little white dress was finally donned and Hermione made her way down to meet Harry in the commons. A steady stream of students was coming and going in preparation for dinner, and she looked around for her 'brother'. Instead she saw Ron. He stood far across the common room by the stairs to the boys' dorms looking equally surprised, until he took in her outfit. Then his expression turned nasty.

"What, off to another meeting with the Ferret family?" He raised his voice so it carried easily across the room. Several faces turned toward her in curiosity, but she noticed many more looked at Ron with varying degrees of contempt.

She rolled her eyes and, inwardly staring down the nervous presence of the covenant, said in a strong voice, "As soon as I'm able, I'm going to have a good, long talk with you. You'd better start brushing up on defense charms, Mr. Weasley."

He looked furious, but stayed on the far side of the room. "Because of you I can't even move freely around this place! You're making a huge mistake and ruining everything! It's not too late – you can still fix this, 'Mione!"

She was relieved when Harry came hurrying down the stairs just then. His hair was damp and even across the wide space she could see mouth-shaped bruises along one side of his neck, but overall, he actually looked quite put together. He glared at his old friend and brushed past him brusquely. "You're supposed to leave when she's here."

"Or what? You'll tell the Headmaster?" Ron's face was an unattractive shade of red. _Draco flushes a much handsomer shade. _The random thought made her smile happily to herself. "It's not funny, 'Mione!"

Hermione looked at him sharply, but held her tongue. _Oh, just you wait, Mr. Weasley. You're not going to know what hit you._ She turned toward Harry and drew her robes on over her dress. "Ready?"

The walk across the castle was just what was needed after the run-in with her former crush, and they joined the flow of students headed toward the great hall for dinner. The cool air and brisk pace settled their nerves, and as if by silent agreement neither mentioned the run-in. Harry took the opportunity instead to tease her. "So, you must have something on your face because everyone is staring at you again. It couldn't possibly be that dress you're trying to hide under your robes."

She punched him affectionately in the shoulder, making sure it was just hard enough to hurt a bit. "Shut up, Harry. Perhaps it's not me they're looking at – from those bruises on your neck, it looks as though you've recently snogged a hippogriff."

Harry punched her back, albeit much more gently. "Yes, Hermione. All these randy teenage boys don't notice the sexy witch walking among them because of the hickey-marked wizard at her side. Are we sure you're the smart one?"

He dropped her off at Professor Dumbledore's office, promising to pay close attention to his Galleon. The two agreed that Lucius' mood would determine the length of the visit more so than usual. The room seemed empty when she entered, and she walked quietly to the Headmaster's desk. There was a blue rose laid on it, Hermione noticed happily. She heard a rustle in the alcove, and turned to see her wizard already sitting in his armchair.

She approached quietly to find Lucius staring out the window with a look of melancholy on his handsome face. The young witch called his name hesitantly. "Lucius?"

He didn't seem to hear her, so she stepped to the side of the chair and reached out to stroke his head tenderly. "Lucius?"

He sighed and closed his red-rimmed eyes. "Good evening, pet."

Hermione sat on his nearest thigh and leaned to press her lips to his. "I've been thinking about you." She allowed him to draw her completely onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Please talk to me, Lucius."

She felt him nod against her head. "I apologize for my discourtesy this morning."

"That's not what I meant. What upset you then, and why is it still bothering you? Please, please tell me." Instinctively, the curly-headed witch pulled the leather band from his hair and ran her fingers through the thick, pale locks. He sighed again and leaned into her touch.

"I don't want you to be around the Weasley boy. I don't want you to talk to him; I don't want you to be in the same room as him; I don't even want you to be in the same castle as him." His voice was rough, as though he'd strained it._ Has he been yelling recently?_

She continued to comb his hair with her fingers and kissed his mouth again. "That sounds a bit unreasonable."

"Will you obey me in this? Will you do this for me?"

Hermione warred within her self briefly. She wasn't his child, nor was she a servant, and the idea of obeying him unquestioningly felt slightly demeaning at first thought. And yet he had asked so humbly, it had almost sounded like begging. Surely Lucius Malfoy would only do such a thing for a good reason. She realized she trusted him implicitly, if only because of the way he held her so gently in his arms. _He loves me and wants to take care of me_. "If you will tell me why, and truly talk to me, I will find a way to somehow honor the need behind that demand."

His body tensed even more under her and he began with obvious reticence, "If I tell you, I would like your word that you will keep my confidence and let me tell Draco in my own time."

"Agreed." She kissed his chin and curled into her nook, inhaling the inherent scent of his skin.

He began slowly, "Narcissa Black and I grew up together, and I detested her from the very beginning. She was very beautiful, very shallow, and very cold. Abraxas desired her at an almost inappropriate age, and when it came time to cast stakes, he claimed right of choice. I pleaded with him to search for another bespoke witch. The two were . . . very much alike." Lucius was quiet for a time and Hermione simply waited, playing with his hair and lightly scratching her fingernails over his scalp.

Some minutes later, he began again. "She was not pure by the time she accepted our stake, and she wouldn't say who had taken her first, only that she had given her heart to one who did not return her love. Abraxas cared little for that; he saw only her great beauty and the advantage of having a wife who brought no inconvenient emotion into his life.

"Our courtship was one of tolerance; there was no illusion of love. We were wed, Abraxas took her to his chambers, and I did not see her for some weeks, by my own choice. Eventually, though, it became all too obvious that the only way I might ever know the pleasure of a woman's company was with this snakelike creature – my wife. And it was indeed pleasurable. I became smitten with the idea of her in my bed, and soon bowed to her every whim in order to curry her sexual favor."

His voice off, and Hermione fought against the jealousy welling up in her. _She was his wife, and he was lonely. Plus she's very dead and it doesn't sound as though he misses her_. She took a deep breath. "Go on, Lucius."

"This was how I was introduced to the Dark Lord, whom she followed alongside her lunatic sister. The first time she introduced us, I saw her change in his presence - almost bloom - and knew he was her unrequited love. Narcissa was only faithful to the house of Malfoy because of her lover's rejection, and I felt as though the greater part of me died with that knowledge.

"That same night I questioned the covenant's recognition of her as bespoke, and a strong sense of precognition washed over me; I almost felt the shape of a babe in my arms and heard its quiet cry. I knew without doubt that she was with child, and this little one was her raison d'**ê**tre."

He continued, "Of course, Voldemort used her to his advantage, and in the end Abraxas joined the DeathEaters out of pride. I did the same, but for a different reason – I . . . I found I could not be separated from this unborn Malfoy child. My stomach roiled against the dark deeds in which we were supposed to delight, though, and I became a spy for Albus soon after joining."

"What of Abraxas?" She whispered quietly.

"He was killed in a duel. He realized he'd been played for a fool, and foolishly challenged the Dark Lord to a wand match."

"And Narcissa?"

"She left the Death Eater ranks for the safety of the unborn child against Voldemort's wishes. Draco was barely a month old when she returned to his side, and he decried her as a deserter and tortured her viciously as an example to the rest of his followers. She died a slow death at St. Mungo's, in a cot like the one you were laid in last night."

They were both silent for some time, although Hermione showered Lucius with warm, gentle touches all the while. Finally, he said tiredly, "I can hear your brain whirring. What is it you want to know?"

She looked at her wizard, taking in his slightly disheveled appearance for the first time. He hadn't yet shaved, and the stubble had grown into more than this morning's scratchy shadow. His eyes were red-rimmed. His shirt and outer robes were as immaculate as always, but he had forgone a waistcoat and tie for the first time she could remember. She thought of how rough his voice sounded again. _Red eyes and sore throat – he's been crying. Good Merlin, my love has been upset this whole day with no one to comfort him. _ Then all the clues added up, and she suddenly understood.

Hermione hugged him fiercely and kissed him with all the tenderness in her heart. "My Lucius, I haven't given any part of myself to anyone else but you and Draco! And certainly not my heart. I won't do that, ever. I was meant for _you_."

Lucius' eyes were closed. He said, "I have waited years for you, and then years more for you to be ready, only to have a similar situation present itself."

"Your fears are based on faulty logic. For one thing, Ron's not exactly Dark Lord material," she countered with a smirk. _I will drag him out of this mooky mood by any means necessary._

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "No, he isn't."

The curly-headed witch grasped his chin and held his gaze, the same way he did when he wanted her absolute attention. "Furthermore, your wife-to-be is a Gryffindor, and you _know_ what that means."

"She's brash and blindly trusting?" There was a small twinkle in his eye, but his mouth was still set in a frown.

"That wasn't where I was going with that . . ." She kissed him again and felt him smile beneath her lips.

"Perhaps you were going to say that she's foolhardy and pigheaded?"

Hermione laughed in spite of the insult. "She's sitting on your lap and trying to lighten your mood, you troll."

"Then she must be truly bespoken, because that is exactly what I need at this moment."

The young witch hid in her nook between Lucius' jaw and shoulder and said quietly, "She's fallen in love with you." And, when she somehow sensed that his mood was still dangerously near maudlin, added, "And she's wearing ruffled knickers under the dress you gave her."

Lucius laughed out loud. "You are a _minx_."

The cloud that had hung over their heads finally dissolved, and Hermione smiled happily. "I understand why you don't want me to be around Ron, and I respect your feelings. I'd like to find a way to make you happy that doesn't involved me being locked in a tower for the next week."

"You really don't harbor romantic feelings for the wizard, do you?" He didn't state it like a question at all, and she was relieved. His hand dropped to her knee, fingers sliding under the short hem of her dress to rub small circles on the underside of her thigh. Somehow that spot was connected to her insides, and she felt that coiling, winding feeling begin deep within her abdomen.

"None at all."

"What would you say to him, if you had the chance to speak?" He had leaned her back over his arm and was speaking against her collarbones.

Hermione shivered pleasurably against the tickle of his unshaven face. She was having difficulty thinking at the moment, but managed, "I'd tell him what an idiot he's been, and that I don't have any idea what I was thinking all those years."

He moved his attention to the deep neckline of the pretty white dress, speaking into the shallow valley between her breasts. "What else?"

Lucius' fingers were slowly traveling up her thigh, tracing patterns in her skin and tickling her in the most delightful way. "Mmmmm. That it wouldn't have mattered if he'd cast a stake along with his brothers, because I still would have chosen you and Draco."

The back of his hand brushed against one of her nipples and she gave a quiet gasp. It could have been accidental, but she doubted anything Lucius did was unplanned. He kissed her again, and her body eagerly responded, arching into his hand when it brushed against her again. She was having difficulty remembering how to breathe, and desire was beginning to spread through her veins. _Please touch me._ Lucius pulled away to watch her heaving chest and brought his hand to cup her breast, rubbing his thumb across its tightened peak. "So responsive to my touch. I wonder - is this far enough for tonight, my lovely?"

Hermione looked at her wizard through heavy-lidded eyes. The constant push-pull of his thumb on her sensitized nipple was the same action he'd taken against her lip several times in the past few days. _Was this what he was thinking of at the time?_ That coil was in her gut was winding tighter and tighter, and she squirmed in pleasant agony.

He seemed to take her noise and movement as an answer, and murmured, "Perhaps a bit more."

He dropped his head to follow the curve of her breast, and when he spoke again his mouth moved against her nipple. "Continue, pet."

The fabric of the dress was thin, and she could feel the shape of every syllable he spoke on her now-hardened nub. "Ooooh. I . . . um . . . I'd tell him that his hands were sweaty, and—" Here Lucius raised his head to look at her with one brow raised inquisitively, and Hermione quickly said with a faint blush, "Don't stop! I'd tell him that he never made me feel the way you do just by looking at me- _like that, oh please, just like that!"_

Lucius was running his tongue across her nipple over the dress. Hermione wove her hand through his hair to hold him in place even as he pulled slightly away. He raised his head slightly, looking with dark eyes at the front of her dress. She looked down to see what pleased him – the white fabric was wet and transparent, and her rosy, erect peak was clearly visible. He ducked his head and blew a cool stream of air over it, and Hermione mewled at the sweet torture. Her body was now throbbing with want, and all she could think about was the pressure that had begun building between her legs.

He straightened up to kiss her mouth, swiping his tongue across her lip just as his hand began moving up her leg again under her dress. She opened her mouth to him, giving a little moan at the feel of his tongue sliding against the tip of her own. His hand brushed along her hip, trailing along the edge of her knickers.

"Ruffles, indeed. I wonder. Do they go all the way 'round?" He pulled away from her mouth to murmur this against her lips. His long fingers followed the ruffled edge over her hip, across the curve of her bottom, and down between her legs. _When did my skin become so sensitive?_ She was trembling with pure pleasure now and having difficulty remembering to breath. She gasped his name.

Lucius chuckled and turned his attentions to her throat. His voice took on a dark, dangerous tone. "Such a lovely one you are, making these delightful noises and responding so quickly to my attentions." His beautiful eyes were as dark as his voice when he raised his head to look at her.

"Please, _please_ don't tease, Lucius."

He wrapped his hand around her thigh and lifted it easily away from the other, bending her knee and propping her foot on the arm of the chair. She watched him breathlessly, still laid back over his other arm and held in place by his hand woven into her hair. Now he was kissing her neck again, and his fingers were tracking along the ruffled edge of her knickers near her seam. Back and forth, back and forth his fingertips softly pushed and pulled along the soft flesh._ Unngh. Please._

"Does that please you, my prize?" His voice was a whisper, and she barely heard it over the pounding of her heart.

"Yyyyeeesss." _If something doesn't happen tonight, I really am going to spontaneously combust._

His fingers finally moved to the crotch of her kickers, rubbing in long strokes and then pressing gently against the opening of her channel. "Such a wet girl," he groaned into her mouth just as he pushed his tongue between her lips. His fingers moved in a torturous rhythm over the fabric of her knickers, until Hermione was writhing in his lap. _If this is what it feels like with all my clothes on, I can't imagine what it will be like without them._

Abruptly, Lucius removed his hand and sat her up in his lap. She looked at him in confusion, and he said in that same, dark voice, "We should not have gone so far tonight, but it would be cruel of me to tease you so without providing relief. Do you know what it is you want, pet? Be specific."

She opened her mouth to beg like she never had in her life, when suddenly the door to the office flew open and Minerva McGonagall came bursting in.

Hermione's entire body reacted in incredulous shock. Her movement drew the attention of the interloper toward the alcove and its inhabitants. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!" She turned to her wizard, glaring at him as she quietly hissed, "I will not be left in this state, Lucius!"

"I'm terribly sorry, Lucius, but I require Albus." The professor looked surprised to see them and then immediately apologetic.

He looked almost amused as he considered the situation. Then he turned his head back toward the door and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "We are in the middle of something, Minerva, and require a few more minutes. _If_ you please."

Minerva McGonagall, bless her gutter-dwelling mind, seemed to comprehend the situation. She raised her eyebrows and said, "OH. Of course, Lucius. I'll wait outside. Just . . . do let me know when you've . . . finished."

"And Minerva?" He called out as she was swinging the door shut. "See that the door is closed _completely_." The professor had the grace to look guilty, and then drew the door shut until the latch caught loudly.

Lucius guided Hermione off his lap to stand between his legs, holding her at arms' length for a short while. She felt her wizard's eyes burn over her exposed skin. Suddenly the white dress seemed very short and revealing, and she crossed her arms over her chest awkwardly. _Merciful Circe, he's just been . . . and now I'm self-conscious?! _Lucius pulled her hands away. "I'm not done looking yet, my prize. I didn't get a chance to admire you earlier."

When he had finished his thorough perusal, he drew her again into his lap. He gathered the frothy fabric in his hands and helped arrange her skirt, running his hands lightly up her legs and sides. _I need him to touch me somewhere, anywhere._

Lucius seemed bent on torturing her with teasing touches and words. So slowly that at first she didn't notice, he returned her to her former position leaned back over his arm, until she lay looking up at him once again. Hermione found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulder in an attempt to keep him close, and pressing kisses to whatever part of him was closest to her mouth at the time.

His free hand ran up her leg under her dress hem, watching as the fabric was pushed up to her hip. Hermione shivered and felt herself break out into goose bumps. Finally, he leaned in and spoke against her lips, "Are you cold, my love?"

He continued tickling her skin as he kissed her, assailing her senses with the contrast of the rough wetness of his tongue in her mouth and the warm touch of his fingers up and down her thigh. She felt the last shred of her former self-consciousness slip away, and made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat. Lucius responded by moving his mouth to the edge of her jaw, and then lower along her neck to nibble at her collarbones. Hermione was sure she'd go mad as she realized he had begun his original seduction all over again. _I'm going to kill him, but only after he gives me what I . . . ooooooh._

His fingers traced the décolletage of her dress. She blushed when he sat her up in his lap and watched his fingers slowly rub her nipples back into tight peaks. "Such a pretty dress, pet, although I would sooner take it off you than leave it on."

Was she dreaming? Never would Hermione have thought such simple actions could produce such all-consuming sensations. Lucius was kissing her again, only now he changed position so that now he could torture both of her peaks by spreading the fingers of one hand between them. She pushed against his thumb and middle finger, wanting more, at the same time that she continued to wriggle on his lap. He pulled away from her mouth to watch her with burning eyes. There was a heavy thrumming between her legs now, and she whispered almost desperately, "Lucius, _please_."

He trailed his fingers down to the pushed-up hem of her dress and pulled it up to her stomach, baring the innocent white ruffled knickers completely for the first time. Her wizard groaned, lightly tracing the waistband and then running his fingers up and down her seam as he had before their interruption. Lucius couldn't seem to take his eyes off the motion of his hand. He seemed to have difficulty swallowing, and his jaw muscles clenched for a moment before he nodded as if to himself. "Tell me what you want, and I'll gladly give it to you."

She sighed, eyes closed and blushing but aware that she would most certainly die unless she did what he said. She pushed into the actions of hand and whispered, "I am in agony, Lucius. Please help me find relief from it."

He groaned and kissed her quickly but deeply and then slid her off his lap. She stood slowly, confused for a moment until he stood as well and forcefully backed her into the windowed wall of the alcove. He looked wild, and Hermione realized this was the side of himself that Lucius had been holding back. _Lucius unchained._

He lifted her up and sat her on the sill, and then pushed her knees apart to stand between them. She was nearly equal to his height in this position, and he didn't have to lean down quite so far when he kissed her hungrily. His fingers rubbed her nipples until they tightened again, and she squirmed and clamped her legs around his waist, trying to bring him closer.

He spoke in her ear darkly as his hands acted out his words. "What a lovely thing you are, wrapped around me and begging for release. How would you like to be touched? Do you want soft caresses? Hmm?"

She whimpered, and he continued, "Or perhaps my love prefers a different sort of touch?" Lucius's fingers tightened around her stiff peaks, plucking and twisting them through her dress.

The coil was winding even tighter within her and she just knew that if Lucius would only let her pull him against her, she could relieve the throbbing in her sex. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and groaned more loudly, "Nnnngh, please!"

His voice was still in her ear. "Do you like that, my sweet? I can think of other things you'd like."

Lucius dropped a hand to her hip and drew it down her thigh. She protested the sudden neglect of one nipple with a strangled sound and almost immediately felt a different sensation. This one was more powerful, and warmer, and even wet, and when she opened her eyes she realized he was suckling her through her dress. Her hand came up of its own accord to hold him there by the back of his head.

His free hand was under the skirt of her dress again, moving in slow, broad strokes up and down her thigh. It finally reached the apex of her legs and brushed up and down the wet crotch of her knickers. She tried to push up against his hand. Lucius released his mouth from her breast and stood up to lean his forehead against hers. His voice was deep and rough as he said, "No more teasing."

He pushed Hermione's head back against the windowpane and slid a hand under her backside, tipping her hips upward. The other he slid back under her dress and pressed against her mound, with the heel of his palm over her aching clitoris and his fingers pressing into her cleft. Lucius murmured, "Now move against my hand."

He returned his mouth to one of her fabric-clad nipples, and Hermione realized that the bolder her movements against his palm, the better it felt. The better it felt, though, the more she needed, and soon she was insensate to everything but her need for the coil within her to spring free. She felt herself break out in a light sweat just as she felt a change in the tension within. Tighter, tighter it wound, until she knew instinctively that her orgasm was impending. She heard Lucius' voice, slightly muffled, and focused on his words. "Come for me, Hermione."

At that moment she opened her eyes to watch Lucius and saw his mouth still latched to her breast over her dress, which was soaked and transparent from his attentions. The sight of her wizard performing such an intimate act on her body caused her hips to buck against his hand once more and then she came apart, quite literally in his hands. Her whisper was agonized as hitherto unused muscles within her spasmed in relief. "_Oh. Oh. Oh, Lucius. Lucius_."

He slipped his hand out from underneath her to wrap it around her, but left the other between them, pressed to the wet fabric covering her sex. Hermione slowly returned to awareness, and Lucius scooped her up and carried her back to their chair. He sat down with her and held her, running his hand over her hair. She had just enough energy to find her nook between his jaw and shoulder, and her eyes closed in contentment. "Was _that_ what everyone's always talking about. Hmmmmmmm, thank you very much."

"Never thank me for that, my love. It's my pleasure." His voice was still rough and deeper than normal, and Hermione raised her head to look at him. He was still wild-eyed, but she could see that he was working on raising his façade of calm.

_I know he was aroused by everything we just did. _She asked uncertainly, "Do you . . . I mean, aren't you . . . Shall-"

He interrupted her firmly, looking somewhat regretful. "No. I did this to myself. Will you forgive me?"

Hermione was surprised by the question. "Of course, if you'll tell me what it was you did wrong."

Her wizard closed his eyes and pulled her head back down to his shoulder. He began tracing patterns on her back, and she curled both arms around his neck. "I focused on my own selfish desires, instead of thinking about what would be appropriate so shortly after our first kiss. I let go of my self-control."

"Lucius, I'm not going to forgive you for wanting to touch me those ways. I _liked_ what we just did." She stroked the back of his neck lightly and added shyly, "I've never felt anything like that before."

Hermione felt that same rush of confidence that always seemed to come when she was with Lucius. She sat up and teased, "I believe you promised to teach me all kinds of wicked things, and eventually corrupt me. Have you changed your mind, sir?"

Her wizard smiled finally, and she kissed him several times on the corner of his mouth. He seemed to accept her argument, because he replied, "We should really work on your aim, pet."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling too broadly until he added, "And that is _all_ we will work on for some time."

Lucius performed a few silently cast spells and set her to rights as best he could before admitting Minerva back into the office. The curly-headed witch found herself in a euphoric, boneless state and sank gratefully into the chair her wizard offered her. The professor made her way to the open door of the Headmaster's private chambers immediately.

Lucius knelt at her side and spoke in a still-rough voice. "You look ready for bed, my love. Perhaps you should summon Mr. Potter."

She tipped forward contentedly against his broad shoulder. "Mmmmmmm."

Minerva was returning with Professor Dumbledore at her side. " . . . And since I cannot find Horace anywhere, and have problems in my own house, this lands squarely in your jurisdiction, Albus. Hermione, I'm headed back to the tower – I'll escort you back. Come on, I haven't much time."

The young witch sighed, wondering how she would possibly be able to walk all that way. She let her head loll on Lucius' shoulder. "Can't you carry me?"

He chuckled. "I will walk with you, and that will have to suffice."

They stood, and he led her to the Headmaster's desk and the rose she'd noticed earlier. "I believe you asked for this."

Hermione smiled in delight and reached for it. "Thank you for remembering. The last one you gave me is fad—ouch!" As she took it from her wizard, her finger was pierced by one of its razor-like thorns. A small drop of blood was already beaded on her skin. "These have ferocious thorns, you know."

Lucius brought her finger to his mouth and gently sucked the blood from it. "Such a delicate, rare flower must have some means to defend itself from predators," he murmured as he looked at her tenderly.

_He's talking about me. _Her heart felt as though it would burst, it was so full of happiness. Still, she needed to set the record straight. "Believe me, Lucius, your rose can take care of itself."


	33. Chapter 33

**Oh my goodness, friends! I've often read in author's notes tales of horrific experiences uploading or copy/pasting text on this site and always dismissed them as rookie mistakes. Tonight, however, I was almost beaten by a 2-inch text box. Holy cow! I have been wrestling with this chapter for 45 minutes! Thank le bon Dieu I'm so stubborn!**

**itsamia 71: so glad you caught that Lucius finally called Hermione by name - I was wondering who (if anyone) would! **

**Silv3rfox: Yes, she's his rose - and a prickly little one, too, sometimes. :D.**

**jenelajohn79 wants to be corrupted by Lucius. Don't we all? -shivers-**

**christinesmess: ooh, you may have caught me on the jersey. darn it! Now I'll have to work that in somehow. Maybe Draco could do some hard community service without his jersey? Just saying . . .**

**WatersofOblivion: you're obviously possessed of an astute mind. I'm not saying anything because it's not written yet!**

**catseyed: Agreed! I will be having a huge temper tantrum if Lucius goes all righteous on us!**

**Love your notes, comments, and questions. Sometimes, as I'm writing, I think _'oh! So-and-so will be happy/unhappy with that part!'_ So please know that you're part of the process! Talk to you soon! Gg**

_T__he characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 33

Monday – Morning/Noon

Hermione woke early with a smug smile on her face and a contented hum in her bones. _Now I now what at least part of all the fuss is about. _She hadn't even dreamed during the night, so sound was her sleep, and now she lay in her bed recalling the details of her time with Lucius.

Thoughts of their visit, however, eventually led to thoughts of the walk back to the tower with Minerva. No sooner had Lucius chastely kissed her goodnight, than the professor was dragging her up the stone steps and suggesting a breakfast meeting with just the two of them for the following morning. The young witch had immediately seen the gaping jaws of the trap being set for her, and with great relief explained her previously made plans.

Now, she realized, it might not hurt to ask for help from Harry and his girls. She felt fairly confident they wouldn't mind running interference by giving Minerva something else to think about for a while. _After all, they're going to be doing it anyway – might as well get credit for it._ _Heavens to Merlin, I'm becoming quite Slytherin in my thinking._ She felt a small wave of amusement wash over her awareness, and gave a reluctant mental nod to the covenant's presence. _I'm still not happy with you._

With those thoughts, Hermione set to work getting ready for the day. It was one of those mornings when everything seemed to go her way – the water was the perfect temperature in the shower, her curls dried just the way she wanted, and she didn't once poke her mascara wand into either of her eyes. In fact, she was so encouraged by this last part that she used a second-level beauty charm to add a bit more makeup and then piled her hair up and secured it with the silver comb. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the end result. _Luna was right last Friday – I do look like a princess in disguise._ She dressed in her uniform and went to bother her redheaded friend, who was nearly ready herself. She and Ginny met Harry and Luna in the commons not long after.

Draco was waiting at the base of the Gryffindor staircase, sprawled elegantly on the lowest steps. He stood as they neared him, bowing with an almost-smile over Hermione's left hand. "Good morning, my lady." He kept his twinkling eyes locked with hers.

Hermione couldn't help but swoon a bit, and Draco's straight face broke into his trademark smirk. He greeted the others, adding to Harry, "We just need to stop at the Headmaster's office on our way,"

He'd kept hold of her hand and was now pulling her along and looking down at her. "A rather large bird told me there's a package waiting for you."

It was still early enough that the group walked without much conversation. Hermione's thoughts jumped from her previous evening's experience to the memory that her wizards talked each night, to the fact that Draco had suggested he and Lucius were comfortable talking to each other about intimate subjects. _How much did Lucius tell Draco about what we did last night? _She glanced up at her wizard. He was obviously lost in his own thoughts, and by the look on his face, she was sure they were very pleasant. _He could be thinking about anything. _Nevertheless, by the time they arrived at their destination, she was blushing from the roots of her hair to well below the V-neck of her sweater.

The present on Professor Dumbledore's desk was wrapped as beautifully as the previous ones, but it was huge and heavy, and something inside clunked back and forth within the box. _Definitely not a dress_. Draco seemed to read her mind and said in an undertone near her ear, "Lucius and I agreed we both need a respite from you in lovely gowns."

She shivered, remembering the burn of his gaze at the Ravenclaw party and the feel of his hands hovering over her skin as he played with her necklace. Her hand went unconsciously to the dragon charm, and Draco smirked knowingly.

He gestured to the box in front of her. "Open it if you like."

The temptation to rip open the package seemed childish, but she gave in to it when she realized Draco seemed to waiting for exactly that. Wrapping paper went everywhere, but she took time to spare the silver ribbon, handing it to Draco. "I want you to tie it on me in a minute."

"You want me to tie you up with this ribbon."

Her mind was elsewhere as she responded. "That's not exactly what I said, but-"

Her attention was drawn from the box when Draco took her suddenly by the wrists and wrapped the ribbon around them, gently but effectively restraining her. His pupils had dilated such that his eyes had gone from ocean to night-colored, and he was looking at her with intensity. Suddenly he flinched so hard that Harry and the girls looked up with concern from their post at the doorway. Luna called out, "Everything okay, Draco?"

Hermione knew immediately what had happened – her wizard had been fantasizing about her and the oath he'd taken had just sent him a punishing zap. She looked down at her wrists and the ribbon that was already unraveling from around them, and she _knew_. The awareness of his thoughts was heady, arousing, and the tiniest bit terrifying. She whispered, "You want to . . ."

Draco winced. "No! Yes. I may have thought about it briefly, along with a thousand other things. But I . . . I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. And I'm not some sick fetishist." He avoided her gaze and looked miserable.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her wizard, mostly to hide her blush. She could feel his heart racing within his chest, and a faint tremor still lingering in his muscles. _That was some zap._ "I had a dream about something like that recently. It was . . . interesting."

"You're saying you understand what I was thinking."

"I'm saying that someday I might not mind being tied up." She peeked up at him.

Draco grimaced and made a frustrated sound. "This is _not_ how this morning was supposed to go. I was so sure that if I didn't have to think about what skin you might be baring in a new dress all day, and that if we spent breakfast surrounded by others, that I could keep my thoughts circumspect at least until lunchtime. But I should have known that wasn't going to happen when I got _these_ last night."

Draco's hand went into the front pocket of his trousers and pulled out the tiny pair of bright blue knickers she'd had Ginny send him. He held them in front of her face, dangling them by the ties that held the sides together. "You, Miss Granger, are a mistress of torture."

She gave him an apologetic look that quickly morphed into a mischievous grin. "So, you liked my present?"

"Not funny, Hermione." He was trying to look at her sternly, but his eyes kept straying to the knickers in his hand. "Yes, immensely. Unfortunately, I will spend the entire day distracted by this impossibly small scrap of fabric."

"If you didn't want the distraction, you probably shouldn't have taken them with you this morning." She bit her lip to keep from smirking and held out her hand. "Would you like me to take them back?"

Draco snatched the knickers out of her reach and returned them to his pocket. He pulled her into his arms none too gently and held her against him by her hips, so that she felt his erection. His expression was a combination of humor and vexation as he growled, "This is all your fault, little witch."

Her body responded immediately, and the sated feeling with which she'd woken up began to ebb. "It's no worse than what you've been doing to me recently, Draco!" She whispered in exasperation. "You're torturing me just as much!"

With a heavy sigh, his frustrated attitude shifted to one of remorse. He let go of her hips and wrapped his arms around her tenderly. "I'm _sorry_, Hermione. But I cannot put you in a compromising position. We'll eventually find time to ourselves."

"Well," she offered even as she fought another blush, "when you're ready to stop being so _circumspect_, perhaps we can make it up to each other." Without looking up at him, she escaped his embrace, heaved the enormous box into her arms, and fled to the safety of her friends.

/ / / / / / / / / /

She was immensely grateful for the company of Harry, Ginny, and Luna, although her 'brother' chose to walk with Draco a few paces ahead of the girls on the way to the great hall. Hermione vaguely broached the subject of distracting Minerva, and while Ginny seemed purposefully clueless of Hermione's mostly implied request, Luna was downright enthusiastic. At the doors, she broke away from her friends to follow her wizard to the Slytherin table. There, the two of them shared a secret, blushing smile.

Breakfast among Slytherins turned out to be quite different than eating at her own table. For one thing, an air of refinement prevailed. Food was passed politely, conversation was pleasant, and no one hurried to be done and gone. She quickly realized there was no Slytherin equivalent of Ron, at least in this group, and was pleased.

One quick glance from this new vantage point to her usual spot at the Gryffindor table had given her quick insight to Draco's mind. He had sat there in that same spot for years, watching her eat and laugh with her friends, and hoping she'd glance up at him eventually. Her heart was stricken with a fierce grief for her wizard's loneliness for one split second. The feeling slowly faded, to be replaced with a feeling in her heart that she could only describe as love. Hermione reached her hand to hold Draco's under the table, and he squeezed it back. She noticed that, even from the back, Ron looked like a pig as he devoured his food.

Vince and Greg sat across from them and Vaisey on Draco's other side. Conversation revolved mainly around the upcoming Quidditch match between the English and Welsh National teams. There had been a subtle changing of seats when Pansy Parkinson arrived in the Great Hall and began making her way to the table, preventing her from being anywhere near them. Now she sat some ways down across from Draco and alternated between staring at him fixedly and casting dirty looks at Hermione. The curly-headed witch struggled against the urge to crawl into Draco's lap and make her claim on him clear.

Eventually she found a somewhat innocent compromise, feeding her wizard a bite of a sticky bun and chastely kissing the frosting from the corner of his mouth. Draco was almost ridiculously pleased by the action, and in return gave her a lingering kiss. He tasted like icing and cinnamon, and she completely forgot about their audience until they pulled apart. Then, blushing, she hid her head against his shoulder while he calmly talked with Greg and Vince about their next class. Draco's hand, still clasped in hers, moved to her upper thigh meanwhile, and Hermione pretended not to be affected by the heavy masculine weight of his hand resting in such a place.

When Harry eventually turned around in his spot at the Gryffindor table to give them a five-minute warning towards the end of the meal, Draco reminded her of her gift. His excitement was obvious. "Open it, please?"

Hermione smiled at his boyishness. She glanced at the students around them, hoping it wasn't the sort of present better opened in private. The box had been sealed shut with a strong Sticking Charm, and she eventually was able to focus long enough to get it open. Inside, under layers of silver tissue, there was a large tome – and not just any tome. It was her _favorite_ Transfigurations reference work; a rare, definitive text she had come to love in her time at school. The young witch turned in shock to the wizard at her side. "This is . . . how did you . . . oh, my goodness, I . . ."

Draco grinned at her. "You were reading the school copy when I met you for our second library date. It was clear how much it meant to you."

"But how did you find it? I've been saving for years on the off chance a copy would come up for sale. They're incredibly hard to find. Thank you, Draco!"

He looked smug. "It would have been yours eventually. Let's just say that the backup plan to woo you was to invite you to the library at the Manor."

At the mention of her favorite _L_ word, Hermione's eyes glazed over and she bit her lip to keep from drooling. Draco laughed softly. "Only you would find that word a turn-on. Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly.

She ran her hands over the enormous book reverently and dropped her head to inhale the exotic smell of ancient leather mixed with magic. This elicited a round of laughter from the wizards closest to them. Grimacing, she looked up apologetically. "Sorry, but it's probably the best gift I've ever received."

"It weighs more than you. Perhaps your wizard should have added a Levitation Charm as part of the package." Greg Goyle beamed at her before rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Draco in a disappointed manner.

Vince Crabbe added teasingly, "It's almost her size as well – what were you thinking, Draco – expecting her to carry that thing around all day? The least you could have done was shrunk it."

Reduce its familiar weight?! Shrink its perfect size?! Hermione was horrified at these ideas. "No one touches my present! I _like_ it big and heavy, and I'm not letting it out of my hands!" The moment the words came out of her mouth, she groaned and dropped her head against the tome. "Not what I meant, boys."

It was too late. Vince and Greg, along with Vaisey and anyone else within hearing distance, roared with laughter. Vaisey leaned to look around Draco. "Don't worry, love – we wouldn't dreamof touching your _present_."

She narrowed her eyes at him and was about to put him in his place when Pansy stood up noisily, causing the bench on the far side of the table to screech across the stone floor. The brunette witch made a noise of deep disgust and looked over the now quiet group disparagingly. "This is only to be expected now that you're _dallying _with . . . _commoners._"

She paused over the word 'commoners', and Hermione knew exactly what word she was implying. Draco, who had been blushing and smirking at his friends' good-natured teasing just moments before, looked shocked. He stood, drawing Hermione against his side. "There is no _dallying_ going on, Pansy, nor is there any commoner in our midst. I think you should go."

As the Slytherin witch flounced away angrily, Draco turned to her in concern. Hermione dismissed it with a roll of her eyes. "Honestly, Draco, I've been called worse. If a bit of name calling and feeble implication is all she's capable, I'm not exactly frightened. Besides, she didn't even have the nerve to address me. I've met scarier pet rats."

Her wizard wasn't convinced. "I don't want her hurting you, either with her own words or the rumors she causes to go around."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his implication. "Have I ever been the sort of witch who cares about what other people think? Besides, if _your_ friends don't believe her, and _my_ friends don't believe her, what does it matter? Your concern is appreciated, Draco, but entirely unnecessary."

It really was time to go. She squeezed his hand one more time before she made her way to Harry, calling back over her shoulder, "See you at lunch!"

The walk to the DADA classroom was quiet as she pondered her wizard's puzzling view of her. _He thinks I need to be protected from Pansy Parkinson, but he's more bothered by her antics than I am_._ Surely he knows what I'm capable of doing – the war made my skill set common knowledge. I think it's Draco who needs protecting from that bitch more so than I. _But how could she protect him without insulting his inherent need to do the same for her? Hermione's brain whirred and spun, seeking solutions.

As she walked with Harry through the halls, many students looked at her curiously, and a good number waved or called out a friendly greeting. She returned the smiles and waves much as Lucius had modeled for her on Saturday, maintaining courtesy regardless of her personal feelings. She also made sure to return all waves with her left hand – after all, she was done hiding the beautiful dragon mark.

Inwardly, she reached out to the faint flicker of the covenant's presence as she pondered the twin troubles of Ron and Pansy. She didn't regard either of them with enough respect to warrant concern, but she did need to take into account her wizards' overprotective attitudes. _I'd really like to focus on visits and kisses and . . . then some . . . this week, rather than disgruntled idiots. But they're not going anywhere until someone makes them. Are you ready to admit it should be me?_ The little sentience was quiet, and Hermione decided to take this as a sign that it was thinking about her words.

She was pleasantly surprised by the events of the morning. Within ten minutes of her arrival at class, the DADA instructor was knocked unconscious when one of his spells was repelled by an adept student. The rest of the two-hour class period was led by Hermione, who pulled rank and put the rest to work with practical drills. Her classmates agreed that it was the best Defense lesson of the year, hands down.

She had Advanced Transfiguration next, and Minerva picked her up at the DADA doorway, not even bothering to check on her colleague. Instead she rolled her eyes and said, "Hermione, when you're ready to think about career options, please don't rule out teaching. You'd make a fine addition to the Hogwarts faculty, and Albus and I would hire you without hesitation."

The curly-headed witch had a brief but vivid mental image of working with wand-wielding, incompetent teenagers and a certain sex-crazed Transfigurations professor. "Oh, thank you, Minerva. You know, I just don't know if I'm cut out for teaching. But I'll keep it in mind."

Advanced Transfigurations was a frustrating class for Hermione. Its main focus was Human Transfiguration, which was something for which she didn't seem to have the aptitude. This in itself was enough to make her decide it was a waste of time, but Minerva's expectations remained high. Therefore, Hermione kept working at it.

Recent rumor was that an eighth year student had attained full Human Transfiguration, and was even now being prepared to register with the Ministry as an Animagus. Today the gossip was that the student had been invited to Transfigure before this very class, but had declined without explanation. Hermione had run through a list of her peers whom she considered to be competent enough to achieve such a result, and then decided there was little to no chance the story was true. If she herself found this discipline too difficult, who else would be able to do it?

Eventually, she tired of going through the motions of repeated failure, and sat down at her desk to rework a particularly interesting Arithmancy problem of her own making. There were several possible outcomes, and she had plotted out each one meticulously by the time class was done. She met Harry outside the door and they joined the lunch-bound traffic. Talk was limited, mostly due to Hermione's heavy burden. Although she'd rather die than admit it, the tome really needed to be Shrunk and Levitated. They had finally passed into the entrance hall when Hermione ground to a sudden stop by the far wall. "Wait!"

Harry looked back over his shoulder and, realizing she was no longer beside him, hurried back to her side. She handed off the enormous Transfigurations tome to him and began digging in her bag desperately. Finally she stood again, hands full. "Got it! This will only take a second. Here, will you . . . yes, like that."

Hermione arranged Harry so that he bent forward at the waist and set a piece of parchment on his back. She rifled through her bag again and came up with her ink and quill. "Hermione, you can do this in the great—"

"Quiet! This is extremely important!" The curly-headed witch leaned over her impromptu desk and began scribbling on the parchment, scolding Harry when he squirmed.

"Sorry, 'Mione, but it tickles! What on earth are you doing?"

"Adding to one of my Arithmancy equations before I forget." She worked feverishly for several more seconds. Then, giving a sigh, she performed a Drying Spell on the parchment, returned it to her bag, and allowed Harry to straighten up. She was just putting away her ink and quill when she was bumped rather roughly from behind, causing her hands to fly in front of her face in a protective gesture. Her quill, which was still wet, stayed in her grasp and effectively slapped her in the forehead, and she felt the splatter of her favorite magical green ink all over her face.

"Oh, I've done it again! I've covered myself in magic ink! _Harry, help!_"

He looked at her helplessly, shifting the heavy Transfigurations book in his arms. "I'm not sure what you want me to do. Remember last time?"

Hermione looked around her, curious who had needed to be so far from the great hall doors that they had bumped into her. There, walking away and casting an innocent glance over her shoulder, was Pansy Parkinson. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, "_Really_, Pansy! I steal the wizard of your dreams, and that's the best you can do? _Ink_?!"

Harry gave his friend a sympathetic look. "Well, after lunch we can go find Professor Slughorn and get some of that Ink-Dissolving Potion from him. At least we know he keeps it in stock."

She sighed. "You're right. I'm a mess, aren't I?"

He grinned. "You're only worried about what Draco will think, and we both know he'll find it attractive in some strange way. Come on, let's go fill our plates before Ron makes everything look unappetizing."

Harry was right, of course – Hermione had spent the better part of the past eight years covered in some academically-acquired mess, and she really wasn't fazed by the idea of magically sparkling green ink-freckles, _except_ . . . She sighed, but squared her shoulders and prepared to face her wizard.

To his credit, Draco barely batted an eyelash. He stood from his spot near Luna as Hermione approached the Gryffindor table and beamed humorously at her. "Miss Granger, you have a certain sparkle about you this afternoon."

She grimaced as they sat down. "I know. I had a run-in with my inkpot outside the great hall."

Harry added, "You mean _Pansy_ had—"

"It was my own fault – I practically set up the whole catastrophe!" Hermione quickly corrected.

Draco glanced toward the Slytherin table, where Pansy sat nearby with her back to them, but only said, "Why was your ink out of your bag?"

"I had a sudden thought about—" she leaned in to say quietly, "That is to say, I'm making a case for talking with you-know-who by using Arithmancy. I think if I can plot out all the variables and run the equations, I might be able to make some diagrams to show Lucius how safe it will be to let me talk with . . . _him_. Where is he, by the way?"

"Exiled to the far end with the firsties; Ginny sent him down there straight away." He returned to their previous conversation. "Hermione, don't you think it's rather foolhardy to approach Arithmancy with an assumed result in mind? You'll be skewing the results."

Hermione frowned. _This is the downside of having an intelligent husband-to-be_. "I think I know a thing or two about the subject."

Draco started to say something but Luna interrupted him abruptly, which was very unlike the sweet blonde witch. She proceeded to recount a long and convoluted anecdote from her last Advanced Divination class, finishing up by saying, "So it's obvious, I think, that the shape my tea leaves took is analogous to the figure of the dog in my dreams. Don't you see? And Sybil says it's an omen of something to happen soon."

Ginny smirked into her hand when Hermione added with mock sincerity, "Of course she does."

Luna looked at her, and suddenly those dreamy blue eyes were clear and sharp. "Only the dog can defeat its master."

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Harry turned to his blonde lover with mild concern, and the odd look faded from Luna's eyes as quickly as it had appeared. Draco looked at her with such a contemplative look that Hermione wondered what exactly he was thinking.

The conversation followed a much lighter course after that. Arithmancy and Divination were forgotten, and Hermione spent the rest of lunch laughing along with her friends and watching Harry with his girls. It was clear he adored them, and that the three of them complemented each other. _Luna was certainly acting odd just now, even for her. Hmmm . . . How lucky Harry and I are to have found such love._ As if he could read her thoughts, Draco reached over and twined his fingers with hers. "You _are_ going to get that off your face before Lucius sees you, right?"

"Yes, of course. Harry said he'll go with me to get some of Professor Slughorn's Ink Dissolving Potion right after this – we both have a free period Mondays after lunch."

"I'll be on my way to Advanced Potions. We can walk together – Harry, my little green-speckled witch, and I." His eyes danced, but otherwise he remained straight-faced.

There was a pause in conversation as the lunch plates were magically cleared from the table and dessert replaced the main dishes. Just then Pansy raised her voice as she spoke to the witch beside her. "Vesta, do I have anything on my face? No? You're sure? Thank you – I'd be so embarrassed to walk around like a little first year with ink-spots."

Hermione laughed outright, protesting when Draco looked upset, "No, really – that was quite funny!" Then, in an undertone as she served them both a small bowlful of trifle, she added, "It's a very silly game she's playing, but the more upset you get, the more she wins. Just ignore her, Draco."

He nodded reluctantly and then looked at her appraisingly. "You know, for a Gryffindor, you have a surprising streak of calculative cunning."

"Yes, well, that Hat had different plans for me originally, but I made a good argument." Hermione ran her finger around the edge of her bowl, gathering the rich pudding on her fingertip.

"What do you mean?"

"That's between me and the Hat. Maybe someday, if you're good, I'll tell you. Mmmmm – vanilla." She raised her finger to her mouth to lick off a bit of the sweet dessert, and just like that the mood changed from pleasantly conversational to electrically charged. Draco's eyes dropped to half-mast as his mouth unconsciously mimicked the movements of her own. Hermione sucked on her finger slowly before pulling it out with an audible _pop_. _Last week I wanted to lick this stuff off his face and . . . _She blushed but held his gaze.

Draco reached across her to dip a spoon into Hermione's bowl. He swirled the spoon through the thick substance before pulling it out and bringing it to the level of her face. With dark eyes, he whispered, "Open for me."

And when she finally released the emptied spoon from between her lips and swallowed slowly, he was breathing as if he'd run a footrace.


	34. Chapter 34

**Happy Thursday, All of You Beautiful People! I cannot even believe that you're still reading this nonsense! Right now I'm typing away at ch35 (yes - you've caught up to me again!), shaking my head because I have have feelings of _attachment _and _responsibility _to you. Such as:**

**medward and RozaLove: Here's me owling you the original prop ribbon so you can be ready for (when I send you) Draco. Y****ou two are just lovely. 'kink-compatible'?! Someone needs to use that!**

**Avaine, Gurlonthemove, HappyDeathEx, BeccaLister and b0wtiesarecool: love you! Thanks for the sweet notes!**

**Gaaracrazy: maybe you're just eating the wrong foods in front of your hubs. ;).**

**Brightki: Your note came so late, I thought you'd broken up with me! The pain! The agony! I was so relieved to hear it was simply a case of you being worked to death and then having insomnia ;D.**

**And to the Lead Please Girl, Gracie Laufey, who used 5 pretties for just 2 pleases: 11 pink sparkly hearts with ruffly edges. Go ahead and ask - I know you want know if the ruffles go all the way around!**

**Mad-girl and christinesmess: you two are dangerously smart, so I'm lumping you together. Oh - and I decided that subconsciously I must have known the jersey wasn't a gift because sneaky Hermione ASKED for it. But I'll fix it in the story in an upcoming chapter so you can sleep at night. marianna79, you should be in this group, too. Miss you!**

**Grovek26 and Irmorena, the AntiRon/Pansy Club: Can I join? And also, what kinds of perks does your club offer?**

**Remember how I gave you two nice non-cliffhangers in a row? Well . . . (runs and hides in linen cupboard upstairs).**

**I can't wait to get all your whiny complaints! :D They're like little love letters. Talk to you soon!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 34

Monday – Afternoon

Firstly, the beautiful Transfigurations tome was shrunk down to a more manageable size at Draco's insistence. Then they set off for the Potions classroom, where the ink was removed quickly, thanks to his presence. Professor Slughorn had nearly tripped on his own feet in his haste to please his favorite student, and was exceedingly polite to her as well. On their way out of the classroom, Harry joked that it was his turn to feel snubbed by the man.

Draco requested a few extra minutes in the corridor to see her off, and the professor eagerly agreed. Harry good-naturedly wandered around the corner into the main hallway, and her wizard promptly pulled her into a fierce, long embrace. _He acts as though we're going to be apart longer than just a few hours._ _ Not that I'm complaining._ His long arms eventually loosened and he slouched down and tilted his head to bring himself closer to her level. "I'll see you tonight." His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke the words quietly.

Hermione shivered from the sensation and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Which is in just a few short hours, Draco."

He pulled her against him by her hips and whispered, "They won't seem so short to me. I'll be thinking about the things I'm going to do to you tonight, little witch."

As if the heat of his breath on her ear lit a flame within her, Hermione was instantly on fire. Now he was running his lips along that sensitive spot under her ear. "Draco, mmmmmm . . . that was just . . . that was just . . . _mean_."

He pulled back and smirked triumphantly at her. "That was for sending me the knickers."

The curly-headed witch tried to shake off the fog of desire that was clouding her mind. _Two can play at this game. I just need to remember how to focus._ "I promise not to send another pair later tonight, then."

Draco pulled back abruptly with an expression of solemn shock on his face. "Never make rash decisions about such important things, Hermione."

"Then behave yourself, Draco." She returned his previous smirk with an even greater degree of triumph. _Winning isn't nearly as fun with soggy knickers._

He held his hands up in surrender and leaned in for one last kiss. "Slughorn has probably already started class - I'll see you tonight." Draco executed a shallow bow and left her in the hall.

Hermione walked the few steps back toward Harry in the main dungeon hallway. She paused when she heard footsteps and peeked cautiously around the corner when she heard him say, "What are you doing down here right now, Ron?"

She pulled back enough that she was hidden in the dark of the smaller corridor. Ron looked startled to see his old friend. "Nothing! Meeting someone! None of your business!"

"Well which is it?" Harry didn't sound exactly friendly, but he didn't sound as though he wanted to pick a fight, either.

Ron countered, "Aren't you supposed to be playing watchdog to 'Mione?" He looked up and down the dungeon hall. He turned to Harry. "Errrrr, we need to talk later. Are you free tonight?"

"What could we possibly have to talk about, Ron?" Harry looked almost anguished to Hermione's eyes, and his voice had a pleading quality to it.

"I need to make things right. Meet me in the Owlery right after last class?"

"I can't – I'll be—"

Ron looked a bit desperate. "I stood by you through a lot, Harry. This is a small thing for me to ask in return. After dinner. Owlery. Be there." He seemed to catch sight of something far beyond her, judging by his squint. "I have to go . . . do something."

Ron took off down the corridor without waiting for an answer, not seeming to notice her in the shadows. Then he was gone, and Harry was coming around the corner toward her, and for one brief moment Hermione was quite sure she heard the high-pitched barking of a small dog.

The two friends made their way out of the dungeons, deciding to spend the remainder of their free time outside. Harry suggested the courtyard, and Hermione readily agreed. It would be a perfect place to work on her calculations in peace while Harry napped in the sun.

She was surprised by how many upper classmen seemed to be there at the same time, until someone approached them with the news that some of Hagrid's beasts had gotten loose during class. Apparently the imminent danger to the student population was enough that all students had been sent to the confines of the castle until further notice. That meant several entire classes were now free to wander the school for a while.

Instead of napping, Harry chatted with anyone and everyone nearby, and eventually Hermione realized that her hopes of a quiet work time were in vain. She finally stowed her parchment, ink, and quill back in her schoolbag and resigned herself to socializing. It was a shame, too – this Arithmancy project was the first non-academic intellectually stimulating problem she'd been interested in so far this year, and it might be just the thing to convince Lucius to let go of his anxieties regarding Ron.

The silver lining of the crowded courtyard came in the form of Astoria Greengrass, who called out to her from a nearby bench. The blonde witch waved Hermione over, and after getting Harry's attention, she went willingly to sit with her new friend.

"Astoria! How was your weekend?"

The Ravenclaw gave her a delighted smile and hug. "Wonderful! Theo and Nick are learning shibari! We practiced all weekend at the Nott Manor." She sighed in a contented manner.

"Errrr . . . shibari? I'm sorry, I don't know what—"

Astoria smiled happily. "Rope bondage! Oh, Hermione, it's _so_ erotic. And just yesterday Theodore said I've been such a good girl that he's going to add—"

"No, really – that's quite enough information, Astoria!" Hermione shook her head to manually clear it. "I mean, I'm really happy you're happy, and I don't need to know the exact reason." _Great and merciful Merlin, I'd forgotten so quickly . . ._

Her new friend smiled apologetically. "Sorry! I keep forgetting you're such a Gryffindor! But honestly, Hermione – didn't you ever, just _once_, wonder what it would be like to—"

"Nope! Let's talk about the weather." And they did just that, as only two scholarly people can do – they analyzed wind pattern, cloud formation, humidity, and projected dew point, until finally Hermione's mind was once again cleared of the horrific images painted by Astoria's few words. She finally offered up, "I suppose your classes have pretty much wound down by now. I know mine have – no real reason to attend at all, really."

Astoria nodded in agreement. "It's true. The only noteworthy thing that's happened in the past week was in Advanced Divination, when a housemate of mine had some remarkable readings and correlating waking dreams about a dog. It was quite remarkable, actually. I've never seen Professor Trelawney so disturbed by such an event." She added as an afterthought, "Excepting ones to do with the Dark Lord, of course."

_Luna was talking about something similar when she went all funny. Curious_._ I wonder if all Ravenclaws have a fatal attraction to Divination. Or dogs._ Out loud, Hermione said politely, "How interesting. Oh – what do you think of applying Arithmancy principles to a predetermined outcome? Because I'm working on . . ."

Astoria was really an ideal conversation partner, aside from talk of her deviant sexual proclivities. With the right style of topic management, she was without doubt one of Hermione's favorite people with whom to chat. And chat they did – in fact, Harry had to physically drag her away from the blonde witch in the middle of a fascinating discussion about the socioeconomic implications of employing house elves. Harry was less than sympathetic to her complaints. "You don't want to be late to Arithmancy, do you?"

That shut her up. She called a quick goodbye to Astoria over her shoulder as she was hurried away. Harry looked at her in puzzlement as he dragged her along. "Astoria Greengrass, 'Mione? I know she's another future house wife and all, but . . . word has it she is one kinky witch. What could you two possibly have in common?"

"Besides a love of school and a passion for learning? Harry, when I keep her away from the topic of sex, she's like talking to . . . to _myself._"

"Except I've heard she's not at all like you. She _couldn't_ be – not to end up bespoke for the Nott house."

"Believe me – I get that. I've dubbed them the Notties. But she's erudite and well spoken. There aren't many people like that around here. No offense, Harry."

He grinned and nodded in an understanding way. "None taken. I guess it must get lonely sometimes, going to school with us mere mortals. I'm glad you have her as a friend. Just don't . . ."

"Develop a sudden fetish for bondage and orgies? You have nothing to worry about there. And thanks for looking out for me. You're a great 'brother'."

They'd reached the Advanced Arithmancy classroom at this point. Harry had a conflicted look on his face as he said, "Errr, Ron asked me to meet up with him after class. I asked a few of our friends to get a message to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster, asking one of them to send a proxy chaperone."

"This had better turn out differently than last Wednesday." They both frowned at the memory of Professor Vector's less than helpful role that day. Hermione went on, "I overheard you talking with him in the Dungeons. What is it he wants to set right, Harry? And why was he down in the Dungeons again when he should have been out with Hagrid? Class had barely started."

He looked at her with a mystified expression. "Haven't a clue on either count, but he's right – we've been through a lot together, and I owe him."

As Harry began walking away down the hall, Hermione called out to him, "You don't owe him anything, Harry!"

Advanced Arithmancy was a small class of highly focused students. Professor Vector had extremely high expectations of each of them, and taught intensely at a furious speed. Today, however, she gave them the class period to work on their final assignment, which was due on the last day. Hermione had finished hers some time ago, and so she pulled out her current project instead.

She refined a few calculations and cast a Projection Spell to show her diagrams on the blank classroom wall used for that purpose. Something wasn't quite right, and after numerous minute adjustments, Hermione approached her teacher.

"Professor Vector, would you be willing to look at a diagram of mine?" She hastened to add, "Since I've already handed in my final project, I'm working on one of my own making."

Vector looked intrigued and followed the curly-headed witch to the projection wall. She looked over the crisscross of colored lines thoughtfully and then Conjured two chairs. Sinking into one, she motioned for Hermione to do the same. "I see you haven't labeled your subject and input variables. Why am I looking at such a secretive diagram, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was prepared for the question. "I don't want to influence your interpretation, Professor."

"That is an interesting choice. Very well, my main concerns are these two lines. They run parallel, yet one seems to influence the other. It looks as though the factor represented by the fainter line could move in a different direction in another scenario. What do you make of this?"

The young witch waved the suggestion away. "Those two factors have nothing to do with each other, I'm certain. And this is the correct scenario." The lines in question represented Ron and Pansy, of course. _Those two are beginning to irritate me even when they're not here._

"I would run through alternative calculations, nevertheless. This almost looks as if you've begun calculations with a predetermined outcome in mind."

Hermione realized the Professor was reiterating Draco's exact words from earlier. _Why does no one else see this the way I do?_ She kept her frustration to herself, however, and thanked the professor for her insight. After that, she lost interest in her work, choosing instead to daydream about her upcoming visits with her wizards. Her thoughts spiraled out of control rather quickly, and by the end of class she was a foggy-headed, lust-addled mess.

No one was there to meet her right after class. When the last student had left, she waited another ten minutes before turning hesitantly to her teacher to ask for help. She turned away quickly. Clearly the professor had reached the same conclusion, and was unhappy with it.

Vector frowned. "Miss Granger, I was not hired to ferry students about, regardless of their future socioeconomic status. You may walk with me as far as the entrance hall, and then you will find someone else to escort you."

A feeling of déjà vu passed over Hermione. She sighed, thanking the professor and following her out of the classroom. They walked in silence and reached a very empty entrance hall. "I will wait with you for ten minutes. It just so happens I have some parchment to grade."

Professor Vector settled onto a bench and Transfigured her hat into a small lap-desk. Without acknowledging Hermione's presence again, she set to work. The young witch wandered the entrance hall rather aimlessly for a short time until her attention was drawn by a scuffling noise coming from the staircase to the dungeons. She approached the dark opening curiously. There, a few steps down, stood a roly-poly little dog with great brown eyes, a smooshed-up sort of nose, and a lolling tongue. It crouched playfully at her, wagging its tail, and Hermione couldn't help but smile.

For the first time that day, the covenant made its presence known within her. She felt the shimmering sensation of its emotion wash over her, but the feeling was unknown to her. _If you're trying to tell me something, you're going to have to do better than that._ Hermione promptly dismissed it, turning her attention back to the dog. She knelt down and stretched out a hand. "Here, puppy," she called softly. "What are you doing in the castle? Come here."

The little dog only wagged its tail harder and made an eager, whining noise that propelled Hermione toward it down the first few stairs. She lowered herself to sit on the step near the animal. It pounced up to her, letting her run her hands over its soft tan and black fur while it nosed about the pockets of her robe. The sentient presence of the covenant rippled uneasily. _Oh, for Merlin's sake – it's just a pug! I'm quite good with animals – just calm down._

Suddenly it froze for a second, then jumped back and looked at her in almost humanlike triumph. In its mouth it held a long, slender object. Hermione scolded it firmly, "Hey! That's my wand! Give it back, you!"

The dog retreated playfully, then turned and began making its way down toward the dungeons. Hermione looked back toward the entrance hall. Technically, there was no doorway, so she was still in the same room as her chaperone. That pins-and-needles feeling spread over her brain, but she began to head after the dog, all the while arguing with the now-panicking covenant. _For Circe's sake! You weren't very clear about what was going to happen, were you! We need to learn to communicate better so the next time you know a dog plans to steal my—_

Hermione never finished the thought. As she rounded the first corner of the dungeon hallway, two things happened almost simultaneously. She was hit with a wave of vertigo stronger than any before, sending her crashing to the floor, and the little dog reappeared and bit her fiercely in the ankle.

**Now Friends, do NOT panic . . . but next week is my spring break, and I'm not going to promise my regular update schedule. Am I breaking up with you? Noooooooo. I'm just trying to be honest and realistic. Besides my three clowns, I will have my three nephews for part of the week, and they're a bit of a Wild West act. I'll be writing away as allowed, and will check in regularly to chat with you all (that's half the fun!)! If you don't follow the story, you might want to consider clicking on that button (or you can keep hitting the refresh button - that's certainly one way to do it). Hearts, Gg**


	35. Chapter 35

**Spring Break is done! I started writing my usual responses to your notes early last week as reviews came in, and then there were suddenly a bazillion of them! So many new names! Welcome aboard!**

**Gaaracrazy: What?! If hubs really doesn't think food is sexy, then it wouldn't matter who was eating it! Men are just dumb sometimes. Mr gg is my favorite idiot - for a brilliant, successful man who strides like a demigod among mere mortals in the corporate domain, he is a complete and utter dingdong when it comes to the subtleties of seduction. This is why I love the pants off him (literally) but read and write about the Malfoys! I'm with you, Gaara girl!**

**BleachLover11: I just really got a kick out of your pen name. I think I'm going to start giving out stars for creative nom de plumes.**

**Ghzhowy: Aw, shucks. I hope the story continues to live up to your kind words!**

**BBG336: Thanks for the note! If you dream up any interesting scenarios and would like to share, please do!**

**lizb994: Glad you found it on this site! (Although I do love the GE site)**

**theparthenon: is there such a thing as a non-frustrating cliffhanger? Just curious . . .**

**werevampluvr, itsamia71, TinkBrown, LadyNorth76, Lilith394, and Yomi Love Akasuna: OMG! I'm, like, so totally wondering the same things! Sorry, my daughter's watching Clueless again, and it's rubbing off again. Like, I'm so sure.**

**illgirl91: Thanks for the novel ;). You're being moved to the accelerated class, along with LunarPotion. I love you, too!**

**And to the rest of you who popped in to say 'hello and where-the-warm-place are you': I'm right here, thinking of you! Thank you all for the kind words - you have absolutely no idea how much fun it is to hang out here with you.**

**Brightki, I'm inviting all these peeps over to your place for virtual drinks on the fanfic veranda afterwards.**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 35

Monday – Late Afternoon/Evening

Hermione woke on a stone floor in a dark, cold place. She was disoriented, but remembered almost right away that she'd been heading toward the dungeons to get her wand back. _So chances are that's where I am, and I don't have my only source of light . . . or defense._

Pansy had obviously lured her down here using the little dog, and that spoke of a certain amount of desperation. _Surely she knows this won't exactly work in her favor with the Malfoy wizards._ Thoughts of Lucius and Draco bolstered her spirits and made her think of the covenant. She reached out mentally in search of the little shimmering presence._ Please don't panic, but obviously we're in trouble. It'd be nice if you could help me somehow._ A feeling of nervous resignation washed over her, and it wasn't her own.

She stood slowly, wincing at a deep, sharp pain in her right ankle. Touching it cautiously revealed what seemed to be a wet, jagged gash that was already swelling under her ruined sock, and she remembered being bitten by the dog. _Oh, perfect. I wonder if witches can get rabies._ The fact that the blood was wet was a good sign – it marked a short passage of time since she'd passed out.

The young witch stretched out her arms and found a wall. Using it as support, she limped forward cautiously until she hit a corner. Along the next wall, she stumbled over what felt like the huge broken frame of a wooden chair. _This could function as a weapon of sorts. _It was really too heavy for her to even carry, but she dragged it along awkwardly as she continued exploring the dark cell. At first she tried to keep as quiet as possible, but soon gave that up. The chair frame made a racket, but it was too potentially useful to scrap. _Besides, if I'm in the dungeons, these walls are incredibly thick_. _Not much noise will filter through from either side._ On she went for a long time in search of a door until her hand brushed against a heavy hinge. The door was locked, of course. Hermione hobbled to the other side of it and settled down against the floor. Whoever had locked her in here would return eventually.

In due course, Hermione lost track of time, and hours seemed to pass as the cold and silence seeped into her bones. She leaned against the broken chair beside her. _What have I done? Will Professor Vector think I found a suitable chaperone and left on my own terms? How soon will they know to look for me? _Finally, with a sound of groaning hinges, the door was pushed open and torchlight flickered into the room. She was so disoriented by the brightness that, for a moment, she thought she saw Ron coming through the door. She blinked several times.

It _was_ Ron, and he was peering around the dim room, wand raised defensively. "Ron! I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank Merlin it's you! Pansy Parkinson is crazy, and we need to get out of here!"

The redhead looked at her stupidly for a moment, then smiled in a not-so-very-nice way. Realization dawned on her. "You _idiot!_ What have you _done_?!"

"Stop calling me that! I was smart enough to get you to come down here, wasn't I? Why do you just assume Pansy did all the brainwork?" His face was darkly flushed down past his collar, and in the bright flickering light of the torch Hermione could see he had a raised rash along his cheeks. Still pointing his wand at her, he moved to drop the torch into the wall-sconce near the door.

"You're working _together_?! This is _unbelievable_! This is so like you, Ron – you always find a smart girl to do the hard parts for you!"

He scratched his head fiercely. "What are you talking about?"

"You used my brain as your personal assistant for _years_, and now you're doing the same to Pansy Parkinson!"

"She's nothing like you, 'Mione!" Ron reached down to his knee and itched at it in the same way he'd done to his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She showed me her tits, for one thing." His face twitched as if he had an itch, and he scrabbled at one rashy cheek, then the other.

"That is just . . . you're a _pig_, Ronald." _And a rashy, itchy pig, at that._

"And you're a frigid cow. I wasn't even sure you were really female until last week." His eyes traveled from her face down to her chest, and Hermione was extremely grateful to be wearing her uniform and robes. The covenant gave a roll of revulsion.

She crossed her arms in front of her and angled her body away from his leer. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply." Hermione sighed. "We need to talk, Ron. But first you need to let me go." She waited for the covenant to physically manifest its intense dislike of this idea, but only a trace feeling of vertigo washed over her. It felt almost like a warning. _I promise to stay as far away from him as possible._

"I don't think I will. See, by being here without a chaperone, you're in violation of traditional courtship rules. Do you know what that means, '_Miss Granger'_?"

She didn't, and she said so.

Instead of answering her right away, he continued, _"And_ you've eloped with a member of a rival family." He scratched at his left ear.

"I've done no such thing!"

"You're here with me, aren't you? Well, then! Do you know what that means by the most ancient laws?" Ron looked very confident, and Hermione was instantly suspicious. _He knows something I don't know. Something I should have known. And why is he so itchy and twitchy? Mother of magic, if I had my wand . . ._

Out loud she said, "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

He looked very smug. "Have you been marked?"

This non sequitur threw her off balance. "Errr, what?"

"Didn't think so. Pansy was right – the Ferret family's been taking things slow with you. You're here without a chaperone, with a rival family member, and you don't bear the Malfoy rune on your skin. Your acceptance can be contested. _I'm_ going to contest it. Then I'm going to cast my stake, and my brothers will accept me back into the family."

"Even if all that were true, I still wouldn't accept. I'd choose the Malfoy house again. I want to marry Lucius and Draco, Ron."

"This isn't about _you, _'Mione! This is about you fixing what you've ruined. You'll be a Weasley house wife – _my_ wife - and I'll be reinstated to the family. It's how it was supposed to be." He raised his arm behind his back and tried to scratch the middle of it, contorting in an attempt to reach it.

"I'm not going to marry you! Other than the fact that you've had sex with every willing girl in this school and treated me horribly, you've just abducted me! And even if none of that were true, we have nothing in common whatsoever. I can't imagine being married to someone who doesn't appreciate the finer points of Transfiguration, or Arithmancy, or Herbology, or even Divination!"

"You hate Divination!" He was within five feet of her now. The covenant was in full panic mode, and Hermione wrestled with the broken chair frame until it stood between her and Ron. She pressed her back against the cold wall behind her, despite the fact that she was beginning to shiver.

"Not nearly as much as I used to. Interestingly enough, Luna made a prophecy at lunch today. She predicted that only the dog could defeat its master. Where's your damned ankle-biter, Ron?"

Ron's comprehension seemed to be somewhat delayed, and it took him some seconds to process her question. He tilted his head, frowning, lowering his wand slightly as he said, "You don't know? Pansy's an Animagus."

_Pansy's the new Animagus. _The information wouldn't seem to process in her brain. She focused on a simpler problem. "What's wrong with you? Why are you all rashy and itching?"

Ron dropped all animosity as he complained, "Don't know – been getting worse for days, especially now that I've run out of Burn Paste. That seemed to help a bit. The Glamour covers up the worst of it, though. Now I've got pustules everywhere, as well as the rash and itching."

Hermione was perversely fascinated by his described symptoms, but at her sudden scientific curiosity to see examine them closely the covenant began producing waves of strong dizziness within her. Ducking even farther behind the chair, she refocused her mind on the fact that her old friend had taken her against her will. "You're completely mad. What's in this for Pansy, anyway? I mean, I can follow your infantile logic to a point, but what's her angle?" _Luna prophesied about Pansy. The new Animagus._

"She wants you out of the way so she can have another go at your lover boy."

There was a sound in the hall and Hermione's heart leapt with hope, only to plummet when Pansy sauntered into the dungeon room. The brunette witch looked balefully at her for a moment before turning to Ron. "Why are you two still here?"

Pansy's tone was puzzling to Hermione. There was none of the expected animosity, and almost a flavor of familiarity. She'd expected the two of them to have only banded together out of necessity – not be friendly! Ron answered in an offhand tone. "Portkey's set for ten minutes from now." He scratched at his shoulder desperately.

Adrenaline instantly pumped through Hermione's body. "What are you talking about? What Portkey?"_ Tealeaves and waking dreams, and that prophecy about the dog and its master . . . how did it go?_

"Good. That gives me time to get to the main floor and help with the search for her." Pansy answered Ron as if they were the only two in the room.

"Tell me why you have a Portkey!"

He looked at Hermione with an ugly smirk, even as he scratched at the back of his neck. "There's to be another meeting of the Weasley men in a bit, and I'm bringing you along. They wanted you – they can have you. I _told you_ you were going to fix this, and I meant it."

_Please let Molly and Arthur and the boys be at the Burrow. _"What would your brothers want with me? Ron, they aren't going to force me to do anything against my will! And _you_!" Here she turned her gaze to the other witch. "How can you possibly think Draco will just fall into your arms when he's avoided you for _years_?!"

Pansy returned her gaze coolly. "He'll see that I'm what he really needs – a _pureblood_ witch from a _suitable_ family."

"You two are completely deluded." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed with frustration. "Ron, this isn't your finest hour. Have you _considered_ the fact that the Malfoys have entire families in their employ whose sole purpose is to protect them and serve their whims? Plus the fact that regardless of ancient laws regarding bindings and house wives, the Ministry will most certainly track you down for taking me against my will. Whether it's a Crabbe, a Goyle, or an Auror, I won't stand in their way when they find us. Do you really want to go to Azkaban?"

"This is why I didn't cast a stake, 'Mione – you're so . . . so _condescending_ to me!"

"That's a very big word for you, Ron. Are you sure you know what it means?" Internally, she was frantically trying to remember Luna's cryptic words from lunch._ What were they . . . what were they?!_

He looked furious in an impotent sort of way and scratched his chest furiously. "Don't belittle me!"

"That's another one. Perhaps working with Pansy raised your IQ a few points? If so, you should consider retaking your N.E.W.T.S. before graduation. It might be the only way you land a real job."

"Langlock!" The quietly spoken hex hit an unsuspecting Hermione squarely, rendering her speechless. Pansy lowered her wand and looked at the now-silent witch with disgust.

The curly-headed witch sat tongue-tied and frozen against the wall, and for the first time, she felt a frisson of true fear run along her spine. Ron looked her up and down in a way that made it obvious what he was thinking, and Hermione shook her head to clear the swoop of dizziness that passed quickly through her.

She took careful stock of her old friend. _If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was certifiably mad_. She didn't think it possible, yet there was something terrifying about the fact that he so stubbornly clung to his warped point of view and her perceived culpability. He was being so . . . so _stupid_. The look in his eye spoke of desperation, and Hermione knew that he would indeed take her by Portkey – at wand point – to the Burrow. What would he do there when his family failed to share his delusion?

Pansy's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. "I want her out of here. Activate the Portkey early."

_Oh, please, please, please help me. I'm sorry I didn't listen – I was wrong! _The covenant flared warmly within her, curling around her in a comforting way. She felt it rebuking her, though, even as it sent soft tendrils of calm through her nervous system. It seemed to be reassuring her that it would be all right, despite her own stupidity. _I was so wrong about so many things._

"You promised me – one more time, Pans." Keeping his wand still aimed directly at Hermione, Ron drew Pansy further across the room.

The brunette sighed in impatience but opened her robes and unbuttoned her shirt. "Make it quick, Ron. I need to get going."

"You keep an eye on _her_." Only pausing to scratch at his stomach like a flea-ridden animal for a few seconds, Ron fell to his knees and attached himself physically to the Slytherin witch's breasts. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in disgust at the sight of his rashy face buried in the soft flesh. There was a swatting sound, and Ron cried out angrily just as Pansy spat, "How dare you put a mark on my skin!"

The wizard stood to his full height and growled back, "You didn't mind at all the last time!"

"That was because I needed your cooperation. How do you think it would look to Draco if I have a love bite on my breast?!"

_ How did the prophecy go? Something about the dog and its master . . . one would defeat the other, but which one?_ Hermione watched her two captors bicker as her heart raced. Something was going to happen, and she needed to be ready.

"Like someone else got to you first," he sneered.

"Why, you . . .!" Pansy drew back and Transfigured, instantly attacking Ron's leg viciously in her canine form. He cried out in pain, and the hand directing his wand at Hermione waved wildly.

Time seemed to slow dramatically, then. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but was thrown backward against the far wall in an explosion of blue sparks and landed in a limp, ragdoll sprawl of limbs. She looked to the doorway. There, with blazing eyes and hand outstretched toward the redhead, was Lucius.

He didn't spare her a glance, but with a gesture of his hand Summoned the broken chair and Transfigured it into a small cage. This he sent hurtling toward Pansy. It dropped over her furry form and snapped shut, trapping her in a space barely big enough for her. He looked over at Hermione for the briefest of moments before conjuring a Patronus. His voice carried clearly across the cell. "Weasley and Parkinson are incapacitated for the moment."

Then he strode toward the dazed redheaded wizard and bent over him. Lucius stiffened, stepped back a few paces, drew out his wand and passed it over Ron in what seemed to be a diagnostic spell. Finally he looked at Hermione, but not with the tender look she yearned for.

"Has he touched you?" He asked tersely, his eyes narrowed in displeasure.

She gestured to her mouth, trying to communicate her inability to speak. "Langlock?" He queried.

He uttered the counter-curse, and Hermione shrank away from his brusque tone as she answered. "I don't know. I woke up in this room by myself."

"Fucking hell," Lucius muttered and crossed to her. "That means quarantine."

He cast another Patronus, intoning, "Poppy, there's an outbreak of (here he muttered something in a lower, unintelligible tone) at the school. Send help to the lower dungeons immediately." Then he began raising wards around the dungeon room, effectively locking in the four of them. Lucius Scourgified the space around Hermione, and then he did the same to her hands and every inch of visible skin.

The abrasive spell stung, but not as much as her wizard's reaction to her. _What have I done? What does Ron have that's so awful it's causing Lucius to act like this?_ Unless it wasn't Ron's rash and pustules, but her own disobedience . . . the covenant seemed to wrap itself around her consciousness like a soft blanket, but she found little comfort in it. She wanted Lucius, but he was busy scrubbing her neck with the harsh spell.

"Clothes off, now. _All of them_," he demanded briskly, avoiding looking at her. Blinking back tears, she staggered to stand and began stripping. Her robes slipped off easily enough, and Lucius incinerated them with an Incendio the moment they hit the floor. He did the same to her sweater, blouse, skirt and then her slip and shoes, until finally she stood in her undergarments and socks. Hermione leaned against the wall and struggled with the sock on her injured leg. She gasped in pain when she finally had to rip the knit material away from the wound, where blood had stuck them together.

He still had not looked at her. "What is it?"

"N-n-nothing. She bit me in her Animagus form. It's . . . it's . . ."

He closed the gap between them enough so that when he knelt he could examine the wound. Her wizard stood abruptly and spun away from her. When he spoke, he was obviously angry. "This is unforgivable."

"Lucius, I am so _sorry_ for what I have done. Please don't turn away from me!" She begged him unreservedly in a trembling voice, hoping her words might soften his hardened heart.

His head came up sharply, and he looked partway over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the wall beside her. His voice was soft. "You mistake my concern in this situation for anger towards you. That is not the case, my love. You were abducted, harmed, and exposed to a dangerous magical malady – and I have been sick with fear. I will not have my first glimpse of your body be under these circumstances. Remove the rest of your clothing quickly, please, before the others arrive."

His tender words caused Hermione to choke on the sob she had been holding back, and now her pent-up tears flowed freely down her cheeks. When her bra, knickers, and socks were dissolved in a final puff of smoke, Lucius slipped out of his robe and handed it back to her.

Hermione quickly shoved her arms into its sleeves and wrapped the enormous outer garment around her.

"Are you clothed?" At her quiet answer he turned and knelt in front of her, holding her gaze. "Sit and show me your wound."

Hermione did as he asked, watching as Lucius tucked the robes carefully around her. He left only her injured ankle bared and was careful to keep his hands far from her skin. "I am sorry for this," he said as he aimed a powerful Scourgify directly into the wound.

The curly-haired witch bit back a cry of pain but couldn't suppress the fresh round of sobs that caused her whole body to heave in a fierce, childlike grief. _If only I had listened! If only I had obeyed! _The enormity of her own hubris crashed over her awareness with humiliating force.

Lucius began reaching a hand toward her face but stopped himself. "I would hold you, pet, but that isn't possible at the moment. Here you are, shhhhh." He drew a silk handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and dropped it in her lap.

Hermione took it and pressed it to her face, inhaling the scent of her wizard while she fought to control her ragged sobbing. "I'm s-s-s-s-o s-s-s-s-orry, L-l-l-ucius!"

Unable to do anything else, he made soothing noises, and she took comfort in them as though he had gathered her into his arms. Her breathing quieted slowly. The loud trample of running feet came down the hall, and Draco and Greg Goyle came barreling into the wards surrounding the cell. Her younger wizard was clearly panic-stricken, and he pushed against the magical containment field as he looked for her in the room. The ward stretched slightly against his shoving, allowing him a brief view of her sitting against the wall. "Hermione! Lucius, let me in! What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Draco. You cannot enter. There is a contagion in the room. Hermione has been exposed, and must be quarantined." He added, "I didn't know before I entered the room, but someone needed to watch those two and stay with our witch in any case."

Draco, unable to see her once more, said tensely, "Are you alright, Hermione?"

She sniffled, but her voice was clear when she answered. "Yes, Draco."

"Can you move so that I can see you?"

Hermione crawled a few feet toward the middle of the room, dragging her broken chair along automatically. Her feet and backside were completely numb from sitting on the cold, damp floor, and her shivering was even stronger now. She stopped her forward progress as soon as she was in plain sight of Draco. "Here I am."

He was as angry-eyed as Lucius, but his voice was imbued with love as he teased her. "There you are, little witch. I see you've traded in sparkly green freckles for horribly unflattering robes. Are you trying to drive me away?"

"Would it even work?" She smiled at him tiredly, feeling the skin of her cheeks pulled by the dried salt-stain of her tears.

"Not even if you've caught Spattergroit. I'm sure you'll make it look ravishing."

Harry's voice came from behind Draco. "Is everything okay in there?" He peered around Greg's bulky shoulder. "'Mione?"

"Oh, Harry!" She fought back another bout of tears. "Ron wasn't going to meet you in the Owlery at all! He—"

Harry interrupted her. "I know, love. You didn't think I'd leave my map in my room after the first time Ron bothered you, did you? I checked it after I'd waited for Ron in the Owlery for almost an hour. What do you think I saw? I saw you, in the lowest dungeons, with him and Pansy Parkinson! I only stopped to send Patronuses to Lucius and Draco and then ran all the way here."

Her younger wizard had turned his attention to the unconscious redheaded wizard in the back of the cell, and there was a dangerous gleam in his eye.

She asked Harry, "How long was I gone?"

"Just over an hour."

"Only _one_ _hour_?! It felt like six!" She gave a long, drawn-out sigh and leaned against the frame of the broken chair. "I'd really like a bath right now."_ And a long nap. I'm exhausted._

For once Draco's eyes didn't glaze over at the idea of a waterlogged Hermione. He nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure you'd like to wash away this whole thing. What's happened to your ankle, sweetheart?"

_It's so cold in here. _She had stretched out her hurt leg, and Draco had caught sight of the dog bite. "Pansy bit me. She's an Animagus, you know."

He looked murderous and turned to look at the caged little dog. "You disgust me."

The little dog whined pitifully, then turned to growl in Hermione's direction. Without even looking at her, Lucius cast a Stinging hex with a carelessly flung hand. "We will have your silence, bitch."

Had she not been so tired and cold all of a sudden, Hermione would have found tremendous satisfaction in the vengeful gesture._ How very un-Gryffindor of me_. Draco was loudly demanding to be let through the wards and given a go at Ron, and Lucius raised his voice as well in heated argument. She couldn't seem to focus on their words, and the noise they were making jangled in her ears painfully.

In the middle of the fuss, Madam Pomfrey finally arrived carrying a valise marked _Magical Maladies_. By that time Hermione was fighting to keep her eyelids open, and even Lucius' heavy robes couldn't keep her from violently shivering. The two of them talked in hushed whispers until the matron noticed the curly-haired witch's quiet convulsions. "She's going into shock." There was a rustling, and then a piece of chocolate was pressed against her mouth. "Miss Granger, eat this.' Madam Pomfrey was talking to Lucius again, now. "Perform a Hot-Air Charm and aim it directly over her." Hermione felt the sudden added weight of a heavy blanket and clung to it gratefully, even as she felt herself Levitated off the cold stones. The chocolate was working its usual magic. "This dungeon floor is like ice, Lucius. You should have done this as soon as you got here."

"Keep your attention on the most pressing problem at hand, Poppy." Lucius' voice was a low growl, and Hermione smiled sleepily in the growing warmth. _I do love bossy Lucius._

Madam Pomfrey conducted brief diagnostic spells on the three students in the cell. Finally she said, "I'm putting a Containment charm around you and also Miss Granger. You may carry her to the infirmary and wait for me. _These two_ will have to stay here until St. Mungo's can transport them. Mr. Weasley is in the final stage of venerea morbis et venefici, as you suspected, and as such he will . . . well, you know. Miss Parkinson is most likely infected, but in what stage I cannot say. Go, but don't touch anything or anyone. And Lucius," she added reluctantly, "your quarantine protocol was acceptable."


	36. Chapter 36

**Happy Tuesday, Everyone! Holy Kapow, Batman - but you all were chatty over chapter 35! Also, and this is IMPORTANT: don't apologize for the length of your notes! They're so much fun to read, and I love stealing your ideas!**

**Hi, Silverandgold12294, Smm79, viola1701e, Lad Kaname Kuran, lizb994, KK1999, and jented777! Thanks for the sweet words!**

**itsamia71 and Alesia G: It's hard for me to stay angsty for long, and as I wrote that chapter I could feel my trademark smirk fighting to break through. I mean, come on - isn't an STD the perfect way to get rid of this annoying redhead? Glad you enjoyed the humor of the situation.**

**Maria Sven: your enthusiasm was positively contagious! I have been writing all afternoon!**

**Peachymom: You've been with me from the beginning, and I just wanted to say thank you very much for your encouragement!**

**briallyson94: no, you didn't read it wrong - Harry used a term of endearment for Hermione. Had to let him be the good 'brother'!**

**This chapter is dedicated to all you fellow swots (the list just keeps growing, but here's the list of readers who probably take notes and call me on my blunders: WatersofOblivion, Mad-girl, christinesmess, marianna 79, AuggieDeeksNico, medward, illgirl91, and Lunar Potion.**

**Well, here goes!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 36

Monday Evening/Night

Wrapped in a palpable Containment charm, Hermione was lifted gently by her wizard and carried across the castle to the infirmary. The moment his arms closed around her, her body relaxed and curled into him as much as it could. The charm prevented her from direct tactile feedback, but she could sense his familiar, comforting shape and his voice was low and comforting in her ear.

"Stay awake, pet – or do you need me to wake you up? Hmmm?" His usually silken voice sounded rough and exhausted.

She fought the sleep that was bearing down on her. "I'm so tired! Just a quick nap."

Lucius swatted her bottom, and through the heavy cloth of his robes and the Containment charm, the sensation was muted. "No nap for you. Don't make me wake you up forcefully, pet – you won't like my methods."

"Mmmmm. I don't think I'd mind if you spanked me." She could hear noises around them, and forced her eyes open. Lucius was climbing the stairs from the dungeons into the entrance hall, into a stream of traffic emanating from the great hall. _Dinner must be over just now_. "I didn't get dinner, Lucius. I'm starving."

"Stay awake and I'll feed you whatever you like in the infirmary," he murmured close to her temple. He raised his head and pushed through the students, largely ignoring them except to navigate through them with as little physical interaction as possible. Hermione kept a lazy eye on the goings-on, and let her mouth run as latent knowledge began processing in her brain.

"Ron has a wizarding venereal disease? At least, I think that's what you said to Madam Pomfrey. If I barely came into contact with him today and have to be quarantined, there's a whole bunch of infected witches here at Hogwarts. Lisa Turpin, for one. And Ursula Penkridge. Oh, and the Patil twins. Those are just Ron's snogs in the past week that I know about. And he and Pansy have been cozy, too. Ugh."

Lucius shushed her, and she quieted against his shoulder. At that moment, the Headmaster's amplified voice filled the castle, directing all students back to the great hall until further notice. Now they were walking against the flow of students, and their pace slowed considerably for a time.

"We don't have a chaperone," she commented as the crowd thinned. "_You're_ breaking the rules now."

He narrowed his eyes in a warning look, but only said, "In this instance, your safety and that of the other students takes preeminence."

Eventually they reached their destination, and he strode through the infirmary to the large bath at the end of the room. Her wizard gently set her on the edge of the tub and turned to the tap, testing the water until it was to his liking. He studied the various bottles of soaps and Potions on the nearby ledge and finally settled on several, which he poured under the running water. Satisfied, he raised a hand to her face and brushed it against the Containment charm. "Can you manage to bathe yourself, my love?"

Hermione groaned. _I'm so tired! And hungry – I just want to eat and then sleep for the rest of my life . . . _"No."

Lucius sighed and stood her up. "You're not making this easy, pet. Very well." Keeping his eyes on her face, he divested her of the oversized robes and helped her into the tub, where she sank like a small stone. The Containment charm was released at a word from him, and the strongly medicated water began eating way harshly at any residue or impurity on her skin.

"I'm so hungry I might die, Lucius." She warned, and then huffed when he smiled indulgently.

He summoned a Malfoy house elf, who was ridiculously eager to bring some dinner for 'the Lady Malfoy'. Within minutes, she was inhaling bite-sized morsels of bread, fruit, and meat as fast as she could while Lucius scrubbed her from head to toe with an overly abrasive pumice stone. In fact, the water itself was abrasive, and when she complained bitterly of that fact, her wizard had the gall to laugh.

Hermione was completely devoid of fight. She had been stripped of pride and power in the past hour or so, and now she as reduced to a pout and quivering lower lip. Lucius teased her gently. "You wanted to talk with the Weasley boy, pet, and you wanted me to help you bathe. Now you must suffer the consequences."

"But the consequences hurt! Oh, Lucius!" Her eyes welled up with tears yet again. "I am so, so sorry to have disobeyed the courtship rules. I have been so stubborn, and prideful, and blind to the obvious! How can you ever forgive me?"

Lucius gave her a tired smirk. "Alas, my bespoken one is a Gryffindor. It won't be the last time she vexes me with her maroon and gold faults."

"Thank you for scrubbing me. I don't think I could have managed myself." Her head lolled against the edge of the tub and she was once again fighting sleep, despite the sting of the water and scrape of the pumice.

"Please, Hermione – do _not_ remind me of what it is I'm doing right now. In my mind, I am mucking out the Thestral stables at the Manor."

"Have you done that before?"

"Many times – it was one of the lesser punishments Abraxas gave me as a child."

"Tell me about when you were a young boy."

Lucius furrowed his brow, looking at a point over her shoulder as he roughly scraped the pumice against her inner thigh. She flinched but didn't complain. _It's my own fault he's doing this, and I'm sure he's only scrubbing so hard because he's imagining a filthy stable._ He began, "I have always had a fondness for Thestrals . . ."

By the time he was finished, Hermione was quite sure no skin remained on her body and that Lucius had been a fascinating child. Finally he rose to his feet and left the large washroom, instructing her to rinse well and wrap in a towel. "I'll find you a pair of pajamas."

He was back just as she was sitting down in a pathetic, shivering huddle on the edge of the tub. "Put these on and come out when you're ready." His eyes never strayed from hers. His respect for her person and desire to wait to see her body sent a sharp stab of emotion through her chest cavity. _Even my internal organs love him._

She exited the washroom in the familiar, ugly pajamas to find that the infirmary had been modified while she was busy. Lucius herded her towards a far corner where privacy screens had been set up around a cot. Directing her to enter the space, he lifted a hand and began to raise Containment wards around her.

Even in her state of exhaustion, she remembered to ask, "Wait - will you dry my hair first, please? Pansy must still have my wand, and no one wants to see my hair in its natural state."

"Of course, pet." Hermione quickly taught him the incantation and wand movement, and he did an exemplary first-time job. Lucius returned to his previous task, and soon Hermione was sealed into her space. He ordered kindly, "Sleep."

"Must you leave, Lucius? I want to know what's going on!"

"I need to scrub myself in that same horrid concoction, burn my clothes and don a pair of those awful pajamas, and then I'll be in the isolation bay beside you. I give you my word that all will be told in the morning."

"I'm sorry you have to do it yourself. When we're married, I'll wash you – and I won't use a pumice stone."

Lucius gave a throaty chuckle. It was the happiest noise she'd heard in hours. "I'll hold you to that, pet."

The small, clean witch lay down on her cot, and found that her brain was much too tired to perform its usual bedtime routine of analyzing the events of the day. Her eyelids fell shut almost immediately, her breath evened out, and she fell into a deep sleep filled with strange dreams of weddings, Portkeys, and pustule-ridden dogs.

**Go ahead, complain about the length. Duct-taping muse, peeps!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Gaaaah - I love you people! You are seriously the best witches and wizards on the world wide web! So many great ideas sent to me today, and so many I will lovingly warp to my own specifications! For those of you who would like to join in that fun, just remember that I'm about a 'day' ahead of you, story-wise (so around ch41), and once bunnyhops edits I don't go back except for grammar/layout emergencies.**

**Itsamia71: you're on fire, girl! Yes, that's exactly what last night's chapter was all about, at least for me - the shift in Hermione's perception of her wizards and this marriage. She was ooked out by the words of the binding oath last week (in the story), and now she's living them and not even batting an eye.**

**BBG336: Yes, yes - boo hoo! If you promise to hold yourself together, Draco will be along shortly. Just not tonight, because he's actually busy. This whole house marriage thing is hard, isn't it - it's either feast or famine if you ship one particular way! Hang in there, I love Draco, too.**

**Franka: In canon, her greatest strength is her amazing mind, and I think it's only fitting that she be cut down a peg or two. FOR NOW! ****In my humble opinion, it was necessary for Hermione's gigantic ego to take a blow, thus deflating some of that hubris. Now she can rise from the ashes and confidently take on the powerful persona of Malfoy house wife. She'll kick plenty of butt! **

**********kelbelz: **boy, Hermione was a whiny mess last night! ******As far as 'vanity' -**I like to think of her request to Lucius as a muscle-memory sort of thing - drying her hair is an automatic part of bathing. As far as being sick, she's had some traumatic shock. As I said to Brightki last night, all I could think about when I wrote this chapter was a patient but slightly irritated parent trying to bathe a whiny, splashing toddler.

******callalily32, ****Ali989969, **Dowlsgal92, Chabela, Dahlia Rose-Marie: thank you so very much for the kind words! Welcome aboard!

**This chapter is for the Please Girls: Gracie Laufey, Shorses, illgirl91, and HappyDeathEx. Love your pretties!**

**And white angel rose 13, it would seem that this chapter was tailored to your request. Perhaps the covenant knew . . .**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 37

Monday – Midnight

Hermione was awakened in the middle of the night by the light of the moon, which streamed brilliantly through the window nearest her cot and directly onto her face. She had slept only a few hours, but felt somewhat refreshed and stood to peek around the privacy screens to see if anyone else was in the infirmary.

Putting weight on her injured ankle wasn't nearly as painful now, and she crouched to look at the wound. It had been dressed at some point while she was sleeping, and there was a telltale purple stain on the bandage from wound cleansing potion. _I must have really been out of it, to have slept through that. That stuff stings quite badly._ She wished someone had thought to put burn paste on her face – she could still feel the abrasive effects of Lucius' multiple Scourgifies and pumice scrubbing.

Sometime during her slumber, more isolation bays had been set up, and she counted six within her line of sight. Someone must have added a Muffliato to the wards surrounding her, because there were too many people moving around in the large hall for the silence that prevailed. There were several strangers in the garb of Healers, and the young witch presumed they were from St. Mungo's, as Madam Pomfrey had mentioned contacting that place earlier. The matron herself was bustling toward Hermione now, pushing a heavily laden cart.

She felt the air around her crackle as the wards were lowered, and stepped back when Madam Pomfrey raised her hand in a halting gesture. "Stay there, please. I'm glad to see you're awake, Miss Granger. It's time for your scheduled scan. Sit tight – I'll be right back."

The wards were raised again except for the Muffliato, and now Hermione was aware of exactly how noisy the infirmary really was. She hugged herself against the chilled air, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Looking to her right for the first time, she gave a startled jump. Only a few feet away, Lucius sat in his own moonlit bay, watching her silently from his usual wingback chair. His platinum hair was unbound and hung heavy over his shoulders, framing a face that looked as painfully scrubbed as her own, and he wore a pair of the infirmary-issued pajamas. She walked toward the invisible barrier between them, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be close to him. Lucius must have sensed her need, for he leaned forward and gave a small, gentle smile.

A haughty-looking silver-haired man with rather theatrically styled Healer's robes was approaching her alongside Madam Pomfrey. Lucius unfolded himself from the chair and walked to the edge of his space, gesturing for his wards to be brought down. With a swish of her wand, the matron lowered the Muffliato only and said, "I'm sorry, Lucius, but you have six hours left of your quarantine. I'll leave the Muffliato down if you prefer."

"She's only just woken up. The ankle wound seems to be healing quickly. And for Merlin's sake, get something for her poor face, Poppy!" Her wizard's report to the other two made it seem as though he'd been keeping watch over her while she'd slept. _He probably has. _

The Healer introduced himself to Hermione as Tertius Flambolt, Lead Healer for St. Mungo's Second Floor Emergency Response Team, and seemed to wait for her to be impressed. When she merely smiled politely, he sniffed disdainfully.

She queried, "Second Floor – that's Magical Bugs, isn't it? Contagious maladies?"

"Of course. Who else would be called to a catastrophe of this magnitude?"

"Forgive me – I know that Muggle diseases and treatment differ greatly from the wizarding variety, but how can a venereal disease be considered catastrophic?" _Surely there's a potion and incantation to cure it!_

The Lead Healer puffed out his chest. "Venerea morbis et venefici is a _magical _bug, and as such it is exceedingly contagious and difficult to treat. It can present great permanent risk to its host. Hogwarts has one confirmed case in its final stages, and several more in stage two. That means the entire school must remain under quarantine until the infected have been identified and removed from the population for treatment. The fact that you show no signs of the malady as of yet is remarkable, and can only be explained by the nonresponsive state phenomenon of VMV."

"Wizarding venereal disease? Well, that figures . . . Just how many stages does it have, and what is 'a nonresponsive state'? And _what exactly do you mean 'as of yet? _How could I possibly have contracted such a thing?" Hermione practically growled the last part.

The two Healers paused to cast Containment charms over themselves and then lowered the rest of the wards around her. Healer Flambolt waved away her questions and gestured imperiously toward her cot. "Please lie down while we run another scanning spell. And be still, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione complied and squinched her eyes shut against the unpleasant crawling feeling of the spell as it traveled over her body. She wondered if Lucius had had to undergo these as well, for all the shortness of his exposure to Ron in the dungeon. Finally the sensation ended, and Hermione opened her eyes. Healer Flambolt gave a peremptory nod and spoke, mainly to the matron. "Still clear. We'll continue running these hourly scans until six o'clock, when the bug will have run out of time to establish itself. Now that she's awake, begin regular doses of Vitamix and Pepper-up to bolster her system."

He looked at the matron expectantly until she answered him in a tight tone. "_Yes_, _Lead _Healer Flambolt, _sir_."

He turned to leave Hermione's isolation bay. She cried out, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"My duties do not include playing nursemaid to demanding patients. I will return for your next scan in an hour."

"But I have questions!"

"Then I suggest you find someone to answer them." With that, Tertius Flambolt was gone in a flourish of robes.

She was tempted to yell something uncivilized at him, but caught herself at the last moment. "Well, he's rather self-important."

Poppy Pomfrey muttered, "And you've only just met him."

Lucius sighed. "Poppy, please tell me you have some burn paste on that cart, and that you plan to cover my fiancée's face with it. She looks as though she's had a run-in with a burping dragon."

The matron actually smiled a bit. "I do, and you're going to get some as well, you big baby. Don't try to tell me you're not worried about your own handsome face!"

Several minutes and two potion doses later, there was still steam coming out of Hermione's ears and her mouth burned pleasantly with the strong taste of peppermint. She could already feel the soothing magic of the burn paste at work on her raw face. In fact, the combined power of the Pepper-up and Vitamix had her humming cheerfully while she watched Madam Pomfrey apply healing salve and a fresh bandage over her dog bite. _Side effects of mixed potions can be extremely pleasant_._ I wonder if people mix these two recreationally._

Looking up from her task, the matron asked, "Miss Granger, how close were you to Mr. Weasley while you were conscious?"

"Errrrr, no less than five feet, I'd say."

"That's very close – the pustules on his exposed skin could easily have burst and infected you from that distance."

"He mentioned them when I asked why he was scratching so, but I couldn't see them through the Glamour he was using."

"We were very fortunate the Glamour was dropped when he was rendered unconscious, otherwise Lucius wouldn't have recognized the symptoms straight away." Finished dressing Hermione's ankle, Madam Pomfrey stood. "I need to go and help that St. Mungo's windbag, but I'll be back to run Lucius' scans in half an hour. If you need anything before then, you'll have to yell."

As the matron left Hermione's bay and raised all wards but the Muffliato, she added, "And Lucius can undoubtedly answer most of your questions in the meantime – he's always been a closet Contagious Maladies buff. _Thank Merlin_ he knew what it was in the first place." She quickly lowered Lucius' wards barely long enough to hand him his own dose cup of burn paste, and left to continue her rounds.

Lucius sighed again as he spread the medicine over his face. Hermione walked the few feet to where the wards separated them physically and smiled at him manically. "Please tell me what's going on as quickly as you can, before the effects of these Potions wear off. I have a feeling I'll need a sense of humor to hear it all."_ I don't think anything could bother me right now._

"If only our dose schedule were synchronized – then we could laugh about it together," he mused wryly. "Very well, somehow or another, your _friend_ Mr. Weasley contracted an extremely contagious, extremely malevolent magical bug, which is rarely caught outside of establishments of ill-repute."

"Ron went to a . . . a _brothel_? What's the incubation period?" Even in her giddy state, her brain whirred at its usual breakneck speed.

He continued on at a deliberate pace, ignoring her question. "The symptoms would have been as mild as those of a cold at first, and then he would have developed a rash . . . in a rather sensitive area. We can only assume Mr. Weasley treated this himself, as he did not visit the school infirmary."

"I think he mentioned using burn paste," she interjected brightly. _I truly love this feeling!_

Lucius raised an eyebrow and she mimed zipping her lips together, barely suppressing a grin. He continued. "This first stage of the disease is easily treatable but rarely caught in time. It can span _years_, and can only be spread through sexual congress. Unfortunately, since heightened arousal is almost constant, the transfer rate is ridiculously high. Then the symptoms change. The rash disappears in the second stage, but the face is subject to flushing a deep, dark color when emotions are strong, and thought process becomes increasingly impaired. The libido is even more elevated."

"Yes! That's what Ron's been like for the last two weeks! I remember thinking that his blushes weren't nearly as attractive as Draco's. Oh, and—"

"Are you quite done, pet?" Her wizard was looking down his aristocratic nose at her with eyes narrowed in a hint of mock irritation.

"Yes, Lucius." She looked at him with as much contrition as she could muster in such a buoyant mood. It actually felt like she was floating a few inches above the ground.

"The second stage is much more contagious, as the bug seems to need only a responsive host. This is the part that's least understood about VMV."

"What exactly is a responsive host?" _I can't wait for another dose of this blessed stuff._

"I think you'll find this fascinating: the earliest recorded outbreak of VMV occurred some three hundred years ago on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, in ward 49."

"The Janus Thickey ward!" She beamed.

Her cheerful mood seemed to be rubbing off on Lucius just a teensy bit, or at least that's how she interpreted his raised eyebrows and twitching mouth. "Yes. A patient was unknowingly admitted with VMV, which he passed on to every conscious member of the ward. It was like a perfectly controlled experiment. There were no casualties, curative potions and Healers were both plentiful, and copious notes were taken."

Hermione gave an uncharacteristically girly squeal. "I love notes!"_ And this wonderful potions regimen! – I get to take it again and again and again . . ._

"I'm sure you do, pet."

"Well, don't stop now that you've got to the good part! And stop sighing like that – you sound so grumpy, Lucius!" She scolded in a singsong voice._ It's almost better than champagne! I'd like some more, soon._ Already she could feel a dwindling in her synthetic euphoria, although it was so slight it was hardly worth complaining about.

He looked at her pointedly, and she stuck out her tongue at him. "Of particular interest was the fact that, despite the same amount of contact, the ward 49 inhabitants who were in unconscious or comatose states were unaffected by the VMV. Recent research seems to validate this phenomenon – that the bug seems to require a host who is both awake and aware during initial contact."

As Lucius said this, a little bell was going off in Hermione's head, and it was such a cheerful little sound! At the same time, the presence of the covenant shimmered brighter than it had in the past and seemed to pass on a feeling of satisfaction. She crowed in delight, flapping her hands in impatience until he was finished. "Do you think . . . Could it be why . . .?"

Lucius seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he finished her thought. "Yes. It would appear we have found a plausible reason for your swooning."

"Because it _knew_ I would want to touch Ron at some point – probably to smack him, or push him away! Or that he'd touch me. And here I was, thinking it was ineffectual! We should tell Aberforth Dumbledore – he'd think this was fascinating! _I_ do – _I_ think it's fascinating, Lucius! I love our covenant! I can't wait to get to know it better. Oh, just _think_ of the personal research possibilities!"

She was positively giddy and found Lucius' lack of humor to be hilarious. Eventually he smiled indulgently at her effervescent spirits. "You do realize the effects of the potions should be wearing off shortly, pet?"

"Yes, yes – I know, they already are." She grinned at her wizard. "But even without their influence, I think I'll find it amusing that we're being screened for the first stages of this venerea morbis et venefici, even though I'm a virgin and you've been celibate for as long as I've been alive. That's really quite funny!"

Her wizard, who had slowly been catching her good mood, became serious once more. "All because a certain bespoke witch couldn't be bothered to follow her rules of courtship. 'Rule number one: never be without your chaperone.' I would have thought that would be an easy one for such an intelligent witch."

Her pleasant buzz was all but gone and was quickly being replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt and a slight headache. Hermione dropped her eyes to the ground. "Lucius, I am so very sorry for leaving Professor Vector."

"Look at me," he commanded, and she obeyed promptly. "For what you have done, by ancient law, I have the right to revoke my stake. I would never do such a thing, but you must understand the serious nature of your actions. Never again, Hermione. You will not disobey me again."

The last of her buoyant mood evaporated instantaneously as Lucius' stern words sank deep into her consciousness. She stood with her head bowed, ashamed of herself. Suddenly it reminded her of her earliest remembered transgression, sneaking cookies out of the cupboard before dinner. Her parents had discovered her in the act of filling her pockets and the treats had been banned from the house for a time.

"And do these ancient laws require punishment?" She asked in a small voice. Hermione risked raising her eyes again to those of her wizard, only to find them unusually bright. _Are those tears?_

Lucius lifted his hand as if to touch her but was rebuffed by the wards. "My role is to protect you at all costs - not to punish, my love."

She sagged with relief, but he continued, "However, as soon as this ordeal is done, Draco and I will mark you as our wife. We will take our time seeking out the most perfect spot of skin on your body, where we will bind a rune so that no mad man can ever attempt to dispute your acceptance of our stake again. This will be done according to the most ancient rites of binding."

Did he mean for those words to have such a trichotomy of effects on her? Her intellect processed the fact that this sounded like an archaic ceremony of sorts, her ego bristled that he planned to brand her as he would a possession, but her body responded with an unexpected surge of pure desire. She felt it lick like flames outward from her belly, consuming every inch of her being. Hermione's heart picked up speed and her breath hitched. _I can't remember how to swallow._ She gulped noisily.

"Do I have a choice in this?" Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.

"We will have the wizarding world know that you have chosen the House of Malfoy. It is our right." Lucius was still looking at her sternly, but his eyes traveled a circuit that seemed to go from her head to her feet. _Has he already decided on that perfect spot?_ She shivered at the thought. He added in a softer voice, "It would have happened before our wedding in any case. We waited to give you time to adjust, but now I see that your education in ancient traditions and the laws protecting them is severely lacking. We will correct this straight away."

Several mental images of her first few post-acceptance meetings came to mind, and Hermione panicked. "Tie me down! Mark me with your rune! Anything would be better than another educational breakfast with Minerva and Molly! Please keep those two away from me, Lucius - they're awful!"

For the first time since she had awakened, her wizard laughed. It was a deep, happy sound, and reassured the young witch that all would be right between the two of them. "And lose the pleasure of watching you squirm? Although, it would be an enjoyable task for me to take upon myself. What do you think, pet – would you like for me to be your teacher?"

_What did he mean about watching me squirm?_ Something about his comment stirred another recent memory, something to do with the sound of a throat clearing . . . but then the rest of his words arrested all brain function. _Lucius is going to educate me. _Hermione tried to shake an instant wave of arousal by peering out into the bustling infirmary again, deciding not to answer such a loaded question.

The pompous Lead Healer from St. Mungo's returned with Madam Pomfrey to run the next series of scans on Lucius, who refused to lie down for them. Instead, he stood motionless and glaring down at the shorter man until the Healer finally quailed enough to satisfy the taller, more commanding wizard.

Hermione found the silent interaction between the two amusing, and it seemed Poppy Pomfrey did as well. The two witches exchanged smirks during the scans more than once. "Still VMV clear. You may finish here, matron."

The older witch looked as though she were about to snarl at the Healer's back, but she seemed to find enough self-control to reply, "_Yes_, Lead Healer Flambolt, _sir_."

The wards raised behind the back of the retreating Healer. Lucius asked, "Where is Draco?"

"Since the chances of him having contact with Mr. Weasley were negligible, I scanned him in the dungeons and put a containment charm around him before sending him straight to help Horace make potions."

Lucius was immediately upset. "Good heavens, Poppy – the boy won't have been able to meet his most basic needs under such a charm, and you've left him in the care of a man who is most likely in his cups as we speak!"

The matron scoffed. "You think I didn't anticipate that? Miss Greengrass is assisting the two of them, having been in detention with Horace at the time this all started. She is more than capable of releasing Draco from the charm as needed." Poppy Pomfrey dropped her voice to a confidential level and gossiped, "Incidentally, I couldn't help but notice she'd been tied erotically beneath her robes – I recognized a shibari knot at the back of her neck. I think she may have climaxed while I was speaking with her!"

_Not her as well! _Hermione blushed and squeezed her eyes shut against the images Madam Pomfrey's words brought to mind. All desire flushed out of her system immediately. She ground her teeth in vexation as she asked as calmly as possible, "I don't suppose you were in Ravenclaw house, Madam Pomfrey?"

The matron looked surprised and blinked several times before answering to the affirmative. _Damn the female staff of Hogwarts and their obsession with sex! Damn the house of Ravenclaw and their fixation with rope! Oh, and might as well damn Molly Weasley, too, while I'm at it!_ (Much later, Hermione would reconsider her sub classifications of the randy females she knew and clump them together in one larger, simpler group – the general female public of the wizarding world).

Lucius was watching her with amusement even as he redirected the conversation smoothly. "Have the potions shipments begun arriving?"

The question piqued Hermione's curiosity, especially when Madam Pomfrey answered, "Thank you very much for sending those orders to your warehouse, Lucius. St. Mungo's sent some supplies, but we would never have had enough without your help. The school is once again in your debt." The last part was added in a quiet, deferential tone that the matron had not used with her wizard before.

Madam Pomfrey's words caused a surge of possessive pride to course through Hermione's being. There was so much she _didn't_ know about her Malfoys yet – their history, their apparently prominent place in wizarding society, the business ventures that funded their wealth . . . But what she _did_ know was that they were honorable wizards._ MY wizards._ The covenant seemed to purr deep in her consciousness.

The combination of Vitamix and Pepper-up barely affected Lucius, and Hermione was disappointed to learn that each consecutive dose had an increasingly diminished effect on the recipient. Not only would she eventually completely miss the pleasant side effect herself, but also she felt cheated of what well might have been her only opportunity to see Lucius Malfoy in a silly mood. When she gave voice to this regret, he attempted his usual intimidation routine of loom-and-glare, but the wards separating them diminished the effect.

"You're not nearly so terrifying with all these wards between us!" She teased.

Lucius smiled darkly. "I wonder if you will be so brave when these charms are lifted?"

Bantering with Lucius was quickly becoming one of her favorite activities. "_Said the snake to the lion_!"

"Ah yes, I seem to remember having this same conversation last night. At this point you proudly admit to being foolhardy, brash, pig-headed and blindly trusting."

"You seemed to like those traits quite a bit – or were you just distracted by the ruffles framing my arse?"

"They were indeed distracting." His eyes twinkled at her and his mouth twitched.

"Perhaps I could distract you again." She fingered the drawstring of her pajama bottoms.

His eyes were drawn to the action of her hands playing with the cotton cord. "Careful, pet. You're missing that layer at the moment."

"How would you know?" She lifted her eyebrow haughtily, biting her lower lip harshly to keep from smiling.

"Regrettably, I was forced to use an Incendio on that particularly small scrap of lace you were wearing earlier."

She smiled triumphantly. "And did you find them distracting?"

He grinned wolfishly. "My only regret was not being able to remove them myself."


	38. Chapter 38

**Hi everyone, just another one of my chatty notes. Can you believe this ridiculous excuse for a story has had over a thousand reviews? I feel as though I should have prepared an acceptance speech . . . Thank you! You continue to make this a thoroughly enjoyable process. It's lovely getting to know you, as well.**

**Dahlia Rose-Marie: Love the cat image for the covenant! I see it in a similar way, the way it curls and 'purrs'.**

**illgirl91: don't tease me about the unicorn! I WANT.**

**Gaaracrazy: would you believe me if I said that most of this stuff writes itself? Just ask Brightki about my shoulder angel and devil (guess which one is wearing the smirk) - I just need to reign them in sometimes.**

**christinesmess: I can practically hear you thinking, you swotty little thing! I think we all need Lucius to knock back a few fingerfuls of firewhiskey at some point so we can see/hear him with a loose tongue . . . gaah. Sorry, I got a little distracted by my choice of words . . .**

**pixieauror: don't know if you read last night's reviews, but Peachymom left you a really sweet note! Basically, you're perfectly normal (at least as far as binge-reading fanfic), and welcome to the dark side, little lamb!**

**itsamia71: I'm your biggest fan! Will you sign my unicorn? (Did you hear? I'm getting one from illgirl91!)**

**1241070: We need to find you a catchy pen name, because I have discalculia and I had to quadruple check my numbers after typing your current one (and it's all about me!). I'm sure someone has an idea ;) . Thanks for the note!**

**lunarcat12: I love Astoria Greengrass. She makes me giggle, the way she lets me tie her up so willingly.**

**Brightki: Four words - bejeweled gag. ;)**

**Oh, dear readers! I have so much fun planned for us. And when I say fun, I mean lovely juicy bits and evil cliffies - although, since we've cleared out the evildoers (mostly), they're probably going to be less evil and more frustrating. Are you excited? I feel positively manic!**

_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

Beta: bunnyhops

Chapter 38

Tuesday – morning

Eventually, Hermione dragged her cot closer to their invisible wall and lay down while they talked. "What's going to happen to Ron?"

The tired-looking wizard looked at her from his wingback chair, where his handsome face and elegantly sprawled long limbs made even the infirmary-issue pajamas look decent. "I cannot find it within myself to care."

"Lucius!"

He leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers against his chin. "He has done this to himself, pet. My concern extends only as far as his family – I would never wish ill on Molly and Arthur."

"Will he recover soon?"

Lucius looked slightly irritated. "Final stage VMV requires lengthy treatment. Mr. Weasley will most likely take up residence in the fourth floor long-term ward."

"But he will eventually recover?"

That was apparently the wrong question. The blond wizard positively glowered at her. "And why do you take such an interest in the recovery of this boy?"

_He's still insecure, although why I have no idea. Ron's an oozing, evil mess. Although I suppose his first wife had similar taste . . ._ Realizing her mistake, Hermione backpedaled quickly. "I only wondered what his symptoms and treatment would be!"

He looked slightly appeased, and as he talked he didn't try to hide his satisfaction in Ron's plight. "Very well. Mr. Weasley will be in isolation until the pustules covering his skin stop erupting. When the last one has popped, and his skin has scarred over grotesquely, he will be allowed visitors. Not that anyone would choose to spend time with such a patient – his thoughts will continue on in their fixations, his libido will remain elevated, and he will most likely become violent."

"That's awful! Poor Ron!" _Oops. Probably shouldn't have said that._ "What I mean is, I wouldn't wish that on anyone!"

Lucius narrowed his eyes and continued. His beautiful voice traced each word lovingly, darkly. "He may or may not regain full use of his faculties. If he does not, he will most likely be moved to the Janus Thickey Ward when he is no longer able to spread the disease through simple contact. Restraining charms will be placed on him to prevent harm to the other patients and staff, and he will be fitted with a magical device that warns of his deteriorated mental condition. This is for the unlikely event that he should escape from care."

"And if he does make a full mental recovery?"

"I eagerly look forward to prosecuting him to the fullest extent of the law. He will be sent to Azkaban for kidnapping and willfully spreading a harmful contagion, and when he is released, I will arrange for him to live the remainder of his life in a private, high-security institution."

"And if he's found not guilty and allowed to go free?"

"He won't be, I assure you."

"But if he _is_?" She pressed, somehow already knowing the answer.

"He will be given the choice between a relatively comfortable life in the institution I mentioned, or a brief struggle with a Crabbe or Goyle."

_Lucius is not a man to be crossed. He's honorable – yes – but he's also dangerous. Just not to me._

"That isn't how Gryffindors do things."

Lucius looked almost amused. "No."

"But he didn't mean for any of this to happen! It was a horrible accident – a mistake!"

"There was no mistake, no accident. Let us imagine the scenario. For him to have contracted this bug, he would have to have knowingly sought out the lowest of whorehouses in Knockturn Alley – a place avoided by all but the most desperate of men. He would have ignored the warning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he entered, the stench of the place, the filth of the room, and the desperation of the woman herself. And for what – at most a few hours of questionable pleasure? Mr. Weasley has willfully chosen each of his poor decisions: he _chose_ not to cast his stake with his brothers. He _chose _to treat you with callous disregard. He _chose _to dally with a prostitute. You will _not_ pity such a man, Hermione. I forbid it."

"You cannot forbid me my own feelings, Lucius! But you're right – it's obvious he worked hard to do this to himself. He doesn't _deserve_ pity." She sagged against her cot tiredly, glancing at her wizard. "The Ron I knew as my friend has been gone a long time. Still, I wouldn't wish his future on anyone."

"For touching my bespoken one it is the _least_ he deserves. His frame of mind at the time is immaterial." His voice shook with quiet fury, his nostrils were flared, and his lips were pressed into a hard line. "I beg you, leave me to myself. I find I cannot continue this conversation."

Hermione complied, and a deep quiet settled over them until the next scan. Sleep evaded her as she pondered Lucius' words. He had clearly spent some time during the night charting out the variable outcomes of the situation, and what he had said (apart from the reference to assassins) made sense. This in itself caused her brain to whirr in activity.

She had always characterized Slytherins as operating in the grey areas where Gryffindors didn't deign to go, and yet Lucius' words spoke of a black-and-white view of the world – right versus wrong, wrong based on personal choice, and the ensuing retribution for said choices. They were . . . very much in keeping with the philosophy of her chosen house.

The only part she could find fault with was Lucius' allusion to the very permanent consequences if Ron did not take his first offer, and a small part of her argued that it was mitigated under the circumstances. It was the same small part that the Sorting Hat had identified all those years ago, when she hadn't been as comfortable with that part of herself. _The Hat was right – I could have been sorted differently. Draco and I would have gotten to know each other years ago, I would probably have learned more Pureblood traditions in Slytherin, and the Weasleys – and Ron – might never have gotten involved._ She shook her head to clear it. _Then again, I would never have gotten to know Harry, and never helped him win the war. Everything turned out as it was meant to be._

Her musing was cut short by the arrival of the matron, who looked dead on her feet. She was alone this time. After running Hermione's second-to-last set of scans, Madam Pomfrey collapsed at the foot of Hermione's cot in uncharacteristic discomposure. "Never in all my time at this school have we had such an incident. I just got back from speaking with the Headmaster, and he has decided that all unaffected students will be sent home at once."

The young witch peeked at her wizard. He was regarding the matron with one eyebrow raised in interest. Hermione asked, "How many students will need to be kept under the quarantine?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head in frustration. "The spread pattern is baffling. One would think the bug would be found primarily amongst upper classmen, specifically Gryffindors and Quidditch players. However, the St. Mungo's team has just found a large pocket of Gryffindor first years that have been recently exposed!"

_Oh, Merlin! That's completely my fault._ "Ron sat with the first years at lunch today – yesterday, I guess. He wasn't supposed to be near me, so Ginny sent him to the far end of the lunch table."

"Well, it's a good thing the first stage is so easy to cure. If only Mr. Weasley had come to me right away – but I'm sure he knew he'd have to explain where he'd been."

Hermione was struck by a stray thought. "Madam Pomfrey, what about Pansy Parkinson? What's happened to her?"

"I don't ordinarily discuss patients outside of professional conversation, but in this case . . ." here she ducked her head toward Hermione and continued in a lower voice, "Miss Parkinson was diagnosed with stage two and moved to St. Mungo's along with Mr. Weasley."

Hermione voiced a concern that had been troubling her all night. She'd held it back, knowing it couldn't be a priority for anyone, but now the words just tumbled out. "She has my wand. Will I get it back, do you think?"

The matron shrugged apologetically. "You'll have to contact St. Mungo's, dear. I'm afraid it might not be a priority right now."

The young witch nodded in comprehension, chewing on the corner of her lip in silence. She hadn't needed it other than to dry her hair earlier after her scrubbing, but it felt as though she were missing a limb. She decided not to dwell on it.

"Have the rest of the Weasleys been told? Ron was home last week for a family meeting!"

"They were informed right away. I'm sure they're at St, Mungo's now."

The implications of Ron's stupidity just continued to multiply. _Maybe Lucius' worst-case solution isn't so awful after all . . ._

Lucius remained silent throughout Madam Pomfrey's visit. She whispered to Hermione, "I see _he's_ in a mood. Again."

The young witch scrunched her face apologetically. "I might have showed sympathy for Ron."

"That would do it. He's mercurial on a good day, and the past twelve hours would test a saint. Still, at least he's learned to control his temper. The day he learned _that_ should be observed as holy."

"I can hear you, Poppy." _How does he manage to make such a menacing tone sound so sexy? I like dangerous men. Maybe there's something wrong with me . . ._

Madam Pomfrey's recent bravery around the blond wizard vanished, and as soon as Hermione had received her dose cups of potions, the matron fled.

She swallowed down the prophylactic treatment, disappointed again that no trace of the former, pleasant side effect was detectable. "Only two scans left for me – only one for you. Will you leave after that?"

"I intend to put things in order and then take you with me, pet."

She smothered her delighted smile into her pillow, nestling down into it with as much contentment as was possible under the circumstances. Her brain whirred away. The past few days replayed in her mind's eye and she flopped onto her back, groaning with a sudden, harsh irritation for her own stupidity. _I was worse than Ron – at least he had an excuse!_

"Is there something you'd like to share, pet?"

"To think, I wasted _two days_ on a faulty Arithmantic equation when I could have just listened to classroom gossip and a few Ravenclaws!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"I wanted to prove to you that Ron was harmless, and so I started calculations—"

He interrupted her brusquely. "You ran Arithmantic equations with a predetermined outcome in mind?"

"Yes," she answered in a small voice. It was becoming very obvious to her that her wizards were every bit as intelligent as she was. "I was wrong. But, Lucius I was so sure that if I just _talked_ to him, he'd . . ." she trailed off.

Lucius's eyes were positively icy. "That wizard has been admitted to St. Mungo's for a stay of indeterminate length as we speak, after which he may well be brought to a Ministry trial. He took you against your will! Does that sound like the sort of man who would _listen_? How could you have so stubbornly refused to admit you were wrong, Hermione? You have been _pig-headed_, and _foolhardy_ . . . "

He was quiet for a long time, and eventually she looked up, expecting to see him looking at her in angry judgment. Instead he was smiling, albeit in a vexed way. "You're going to make it up to me. You will spend the rest of our engagement locked in a tower of my own choosing. I've had an alternate chaperone on retainer since our binding. As soon as I'm released, she will be sent for. And she won't be _nearly_ as lackadaisical as Mr. Potter."

Hermione's heart sank. A tower. Of his choosing. No doubt it would be high, windowless, and accessible only by magic.

**No doubt you're all saying, '_What?! No cuddly Lucius time?! That's all until next Monday?!'_ And the answer to that, dear readers, is yes. But just you wait - mostly because you have no choice, and also because it will be worth it! Besides - now you know how screwed the ginger menace really is. I know I'll sleep better for that! I love you all and can't wait to hear from you! -gg**


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